Winter Winds
by Starking
Summary: Not even a Lannister name could lessen the similarity between Joanna and her father. She was Robert's daughter through and through, and Cersei feared that it would be her undoing. (Robb/OC, eventual Jon/OC, canon divergence later on)
1. Prologue: A Bird Without Feathers

Prologue

 _A Bird Without Feathers_

The babe had not a hint of Lannister about her, so Cersei named her Joanna to make up for what she lacked. The morning dawned bright through her window, and she could hear bells ringing outside. Grand Maester Pycelle had said that the babe would not last the night, and yet here they were. The little thing, tiny and pink and frail, was still breathing. She was swaddled in Cersei's arms, head covered in dark downy hair, fast asleep.

Cersei had almost made her peace with losing the baby. She had only carried the babe for seven months before she came suddenly into the world. The moment that Cersei had felt the first pain of childbirth, she had begun to accept that the child she carried would likely not live to see the daylight. All throughout her pregnancy, she almost hoped that something would happen, prayed for something to relieve her of the burden of bearing Robert's child. She had begged the gods for the child to be rid of her body so she wouldn't have to do it herself. And yet, as she sat through the night with the tiny creature swaddled in her arms, she prayed to each of the seven gods for one more chance. One chance to bear Robert's child, and perhaps that would make him forget about the Stark girl once and for all.

Now that she held the baby in her arms, she could not stand to lose her. She belonged to Cersei. For seven months, she had strained to carry Robert's child, the child of the man that she, in such a short time, had grown to despise. Looking down at the babe, the very reflection of Robert Baratheon, Cersei knew that she could never fully love the child. But it was _hers_. Never Robert's, never anyone else's. Joanna belonged to her.

The little thing squirmed in her arms, whining softly. She had been silent when she was born; for several moments, Cersei had been sure that her baby hadn't even had a chance to live. Then, suddenly, just as she'd changed her mind and prayed to the gods for her baby to live, a small cry pierced the quiet night. It was a half-cry, and only one, but enough for Maester Pycelle to wrap her in blankets and hand her to Cersei.

Cersei tilted her head as she looked down at the little thing they'd handed her. She was hardly the length of her forearm, and weighed so little that Cersei felt only the weight of the blankets in her arms.

"She looks remarkably like Robert, doesn't she?" Jaime commented, leaning over Cersei's shoulder to look at the babe she was holding. Cersei hummed softly.

"She'll be a beauty," she responded, voice soft. Half of her wanted to imagine a happy life with Robert, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, bearing children with black hair. Perhaps now that she'd born him a child, he would leave the past behind. But the rational part of her mind knew that those thoughts were foolish. Her marriage to Robert had been doomed before it started, and the moment he'd called her Lyanna in their marriage bed had only cemented the deal.

"Like a little bird," Jaime continued, carefully running his finger over Joanna's cheek.

"Careful," Cersei chided, moving the baby away so Jaime was no longer touching her. "Maester Pycelle says she isn't out of the dangerous time yet."

"Her whole life will be dangerous," he informed, trying to be gentle. "Even once she's riding off to be married to a great lord, she won't be out of the dangerous time."

"Don't say such things." In the silences between them, she could faintly hear the baby's quivering breaths. When the sun broke, and Maester Pycelle had returned to check on them, he'd told Cersei not to expect Joanna to last the day. But the babe wasn't supposed to live through the night, and had. Cersei wasn't willing to give up on Joanna yet. Not now that she wanted her to live. "Has Robert returned?"

"He is expected to return before noon."

Robert was worthless. She knew that the news of her labor had reached him during his hunt, and still he'd waited out the night to return. While she was laboring in bed with his child, he was drinking and sleeping with whores. Sometimes, when the sleepless night got to her, Cersei imagined that it was Jaime's child she was holding. She could pretend that the black hair was brilliant gold. Jaime had stayed with her through the night, had slept beside her as she sat, unsleeping, with Joanna in her arms. He was the only one who deserved for her to love him.

The bells continued into the high morning. Cersei's eyes flickered shut, and several times she nodded into sleep before jolting awake once more, worried each time that she would awaken and the baby wouldn't be breathing anymore. She dreaded the moment that the celebration bells would turn to mourning bells. She started awake again when the doors burst open, Robert striding in. He was tall and handsome, robust and strongly built, his dark hair tied back. His stride quickened when he was in the room, until finally he knelt at Cersei's bedside. He gazed at the baby for a long moment.

"Leave us," he said, voice strong and low. Jaime hesitated for a moment before he left the room, closing the doors behind him. Cersei was sure that he was standing guard at the door. "Let me see her."

Reluctantly, she gingerly passed him the tiny bundle in her arms. To her surprise, Robert held her with the utmost care, making sure not to jostle her too much. Cersei heard his soft intake of breath.

"How long will she live?" he asked quietly.

"Maester Pycelle says this will be her only day."

He brought up a large, calloused hand, and brushed his fingertips over the soft, dark hair on her head. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

"No," he said. "She's going to be stronger than that. She's going to hold on."

He handed the baby back to her, standing and leaving the room. She watched the door with disbelief for a moment, seething that she spent hours birthing his child and he'd hardly spent more than a moment with her. But he was right. She was going to live – she had to. Cersei could not bear if the child the carried, the child she labored for, didn't even last the day.

"You'll live," she hissed at the baby, almost desperate. She could not bear the thought of Joanna taking her final breath. "No matter what, Joanna, you'll live. _Please_. You must live."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm BACK!**

 **Hello again everyone, and hello for the first time to people who haven't read my previous GoT stories. So, the Game of Thrones bug bit me again, and I finally decided to get back to writing some of the stories I'd started planning out. I still haven't gotten all the way through Season 5, but with Season 6 premiering tonight, I figured I'd give the show another chance.**

 **Like with my previous story, this will eventually wander into AU territory, but we'll stick to canon for now. As for when I'll be updating, I'm not even going to pretend to update regularly. I have every intention of finishing this story, but I want to enjoy writing it, and don't want to add more stress to my life by giving myself deadlines on this. I'd like to not go several months without updates, though, because that sucks for me and you alike.**

 **If you enjoyed the prologue, or if it piqued your interest in any way, I'd love to hear it! It's always much easier and much more enjoyable to write when I know there's an audience enjoying my work. I always love to hear your thoughts!**

 **Thank you all for reading, friends. I'm sure I'll be back soon.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	2. I: Winterfell

I

 _Winterfell_

The North had a beauty wholly unlike the South. King's Landing was colorful and bright, and the air smelled of flowers and salt of the sea. Here, the air just smelled...cold. It was sharp on the nose, and the sky was bleak above, and the ground frozen and unforgiving underfoot. Still, to Joanna, who had never been outside of King's Landing, it was a fascinating place. She sat at the edge of her seat, arms crossed upon the window sill.

"Aren't you bored?" Myrcella asked, moving from her seat across the wheelhouse next to their mother.

"No," she replied, turning and raising an arm so her sister could huddle beneath her heavy cloak and share in her warmth. "Doesn't sitting and reading in here make you sick?"

"No," Myrcella responded with a giggle. "Isn't it exciting? Going to Winterfell."

"Indeed," Joanna replied. "I only hope it's worth the trip up here."

"Oh, it will be," Myrcella responded. She punctuated her statement with a firm, sure nod. "I've read so many stories. I heard it's a beautiful crystal palace -"

"Sure," she snorted. "And the Red Keep is a glistening ruby castle."

"Joanna," Cersei called, sending her daughter a stern look from her seat opposite the girls. Joanna remembered herself, pulling her sister closer to her side.

"You're right," she said, smiling down at the young girl. "I'm sure Winterfell will be beautiful."

"Will we be there soon?" Tommen asked, looking up at his mother from his seat on the opposite side of the wheelhouse.

"Have patience, my love," their mother replied, taking his little hand in hers. She had never been a woman who was especially open with her love, but the trip to the North had made her even less approachable than usual. The closer they got to Winterfell, it seemed, the sourer her mood became.

Myrcella had begun to spout off facts about Winterfell and the Starks, lists she surely had memorized from a history book she'd read, as she did so love to learn. Suddenly, the wheelhouse was beginning to feel more and more like one of Septa Eglantine's lessons, and Joanna swiftly got the urge to escape. She withdrew from her sister, turning her attentions back to the view outside of the window and doing her best to tune out the sound of her sister's voice.

The wheelhouse was spacious, furnished with the best that money could buy, but with so many people crammed inside, it oftentimes felt more like a prison. This was one of those times. Alongside Joanna in the wheelhouse were two of her younger siblings and her mother, as well as their companions and handmaidens. Joanna didn't have a view up ahead of the wheelhouse, but she knew that proceeding them her were father and brother, both on horseback.

She wished terribly that she could have ridden alongside them, able to breathe fresh air and feel the cold whip of the Northern wind on her cheeks. Though admittedly, she didn't envy them the sore arse they surely felt at the end of the long day's ride. But that was a man's burden, Joanna thought; the man had to suffer from saddle arse, and the women had to suffer from everything else.

A shout from outside drew her from her thoughts. She craned her neck, trying to get a better glimpse of what was going on. When they rounded the bend of the road, she could see the castle in the distance. A gasp broke her lips before she could stop herself, and the sound caused Myrcella to stop speaking abruptly.

"What is it?" she asked, trying to push past Joanna to see outside the window. Joanna stood, trying to keep her balance in the wobbly wheelhouse, and allowed Myrcella to trade her places on the seat so she could see Winterfell upon the horizon.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Myrcella cried with glee, grinning. "Just like I knew it would be."

In truth, Joanna didn't think Winterfell looked much different from any other castle they'd seen on their journey to the North, but Myrcella, for all she was intelligent, did have a tendency to be dreamy. Joanna settled down in the seat again, sitting next to Desmera Redwyne. Her companion since she was a child, Desmera immediately scooted closer to Joanna so they were sitting hip-to-hip.

She didn't say anything, only took one of Joanna's hands and tried to look past Joanna and Myrcella to peek out the window at Winterfell. The other maids in the wheelhouse were chattering quietly to each other. Cersei allowed them their fun for a moment, before calling them into work.

"Girls," she said. "Let us freshen up for the arrival."

The handmaidens bustled around the unsteady wheelhouse, pinning up loose hairs and pinching cheeks to redden them. They were still wearing their travel clothes, but it didn't matter; everything they wore was still made of fine materials, embroidered and decorated richly. The girls worked on their hair and dress until they passed through the gates of the town, when they pressed themselves against the windows and chattered excitedly. Myrcella had still hardly left her spot, hadn't even moved when a handmaiden had moved beside her to brush out her pretty gold hair.

"Oh, Joanna, can you see?" she asked, peering through the window with delight. "It's wonderful."

"I'm sure it is," Joanna smiled, looking past her sister out the window. She could see rows of people lining up along the road that led to the keep. Finally, the wheelhouse came to a stop. Cersei called Myrcella over to her again, so the young girl was sitting on her mother's other side. Joanna scooted closer to the window, occupying the seat her sister had just vacated. Outside, she could see the Northerners kneeling, waiting for her father to remove his massive weight from his stallion.

"When are we going to get out?" Tommen asked, drawing Joanna's attention away from the proceedings outside.

"Hush," Cersei beckoned, putting an arm around his shoulders. It was only a moment later that they were called outside by a gentle knock on the wheelhouse door before it was opened. The handmaidens disembarked first, lining up on one side of the door, before Joanna led her siblings out to the other side. Their mother was the last to exit the wheelhouse, stepping out into the cold Northern air. She surveyed Winterfell and the Northmen with a disinterested look.

She waited until the King had moved down the line of Starks to approach them, offering her hand with an expectant look. Lord Stark did not disappoint, he bowed, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"My Queen," he greeted.

If anything, Joanna could say that the Starks knew how to keep the King and Queen happy. Cersei turned back to them, frowning, when Lord Stark accompanied the King to the crypts.

"Lady Stark, if I may present my children," she said, turning back to the Stark household with a fine-tuned mask of pleasantry. She gestured to Joffrey, who had just dismounted his horse, standing cockily with his hands placed over the sword on his side. "Prince Joffrey, Princess Joanna, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen."

Lady Stark gave a quick curtsy, before motioning to the keep.

"Let us go in out of the cold," she beckoned, and Cersei's lips tightened into a smile. She beckoned for the handmaidens to follow them as Lady Stark led them inside the castle, then turned and let her pleasant mask slip away.

* * *

Joanna leaned against the doorway, watching Septa Eglantine carefully brush through Myrcella's pretty hair. At eleven, Myrcella was five years her junior, yet already blossoming into an attractive girl – the picture of their mother, and just as beautiful. The two sisters hardly looked a thing alike; the only thing they shared between them was their mother's slender figure and stature. Even still, Myrcella was showing to be willowier, rather than Joanna who was slender but strongly built. But where Myrcella was light, Joanna was dark. Myrcella's hair was golden like their mother's, eyes bright and shining green. Joanna, on the other hand, had the dark hair of their father, and his stormy blue eyes to match. Even all of Myrcella's soft features were contrasted in Joanna, whose face was square instead of oval. Where Myrcella reflected their mother, Joanna reflected their father.

"Do you suppose there will be dancing?" Myrcella asked, glancing at Joanna through the mirror.

"I don't know," Joanna shrugged. "Do Northerners dance?"

"Of course," she replied with a small giggle. "Everyone dances."

"I don't know about everyone," Joanna said, trailing over to sit on the chest that held Myrcella's wardrobe. "I've never seen Uncle Jaime dance, have you?"

Myrcella giggled again at the thought of her uncle, in full armor, dancing a jig. She placed a dainty hand over her mouth to cover her pretty smile.

"Besides, could you imagine seeing anyone try to stumble around the dancefloor after three or four glasses of wine? Though I suppose you wouldn't need to imagine Father in such a state, he already –"

"Joanna," Eglantine snapped, sending her a stern look. Joanna shut her mouth immediately. She gave Myrcella a thin smile.

"If you want dancing," she said, "Then there shall be dancing. I'm sure all the Northern boys have been dreaming of dancing with you."

"You really think so?" Myrcella asked, examining her reflection in the mirror. Eglantine finished with her hair and stepped away.

"Of course!" Joanna replied, standing and moving to occupy the stop behind Myrcella's chair that Septa Eglantine had just vacated. She placed her hands on her sister's thin shoulders. "Look how lovely you are. Come, let's show Mother."

Joanna took Myrcella's hand when she stood, guiding her out of the chambers she'd been given. They trailed through the corridors of Winterfell, Septa Eglantine at their heels, until they reached their mother's chambers. When they were invited in, Cersei was still having her hair piled atop her head in the southern fashion, the same way Joanna's hair had been pulled up. Cersei caught sight of them in the mirror. She lifted her hand for her handmaiden to step away from her, and turned in her chair to face her daughters.

For a long moment, Joanna felt naked under her mother's scrutiny, worried that the slightest detail would be askew. She was worried that there would be something about her that would cause Cersei to disapprove. Finally, though, she smiled.

"Such beauties you are," she said, though her smile was thin and tight. "Your presence at the feast will be a gift to the North."

She turned back, allowing her handmaiden to continue fixing up her hair. Joanna shifted on her feet. After a moment, she sat down on her feet beside the low chair in which Cersei sat. Cersei reached over to tug gently at the braids of hair that hung over Joanna's shoulders.

"Mother," she asked. "Is it true that Joffrey is going to marry Lord Stark's daughter?"

"So it seems," Cersei replied, not allowing her face or tone of voice betray her true feelings about the arrangement.

"Does that mean that the Starks are going to come down to King's Landing with us when we return?"

Cersei hummed briefly in thought. "That depends if Lord Stark accepts your father's offer. So you'll be friendly with them tonight."

"Of course." Joanna frowned, dismayed that her mother thought she had to be told to be welcoming to the Starks. In Joanna's opinion, she was never anything but friendly.

Once Cersei was ready, both girls followed her through the corridors down to the great hall of Winterfell. They were seated down at one of the lower tables, allowing for Lord and Lady Stark, as well as the King and Queen to occupy the head table. From her vantage point at the head of the room, Cersei watched the crowd below as the revelry commenced. She wasn't one for feasts and parties as it was, but having to be in Winterfell only made her mood sourer. Perhaps in King's Landing, she could bring herself to enjoy the music and food, though never actively participate. Here, however, she hardly had the stomach to finish her meal.

Robert had hardly finished the first course before moving down from the high table to mingle. It would be a charming gesture, perhaps, if he weren't drunk and openly misbehaving. But all who were visited by Robert were glad to receive him, enjoying his presence until he decided to move on. Cersei's attention was drawn to yet another member of her family mingling among the crowd; Joanna was one for conversation, an affable and sociable young woman. She always had been. Though frail as a young girl, she had always been energetic, vibrant and full of life.

Working her way down the table, Joanna looked down to see that she was nearing Sansa Stark's seat. Several times, Joanna caught sight of Sansa and her friend glancing over at Joffrey and giggling to each other. She wished she could tell them what a terror he was, how horrible he was to live with, to be related to. But there was no use. No one she told ever took her seriously. Sisters always hate brothers, they'd tell her. But not the way Joanna hated Joffrey. Still, she smiled as she approached the young Lady Stark, settling on the bench across from her. She leaned on her elbows, scooting forward so she was at the edge of her seat.

"I hear we're going to be good-sisters one day," she said without preamble. Sansa was clearly startled at the sudden introduction, but she was quick to smile politely. "Are you very excited?"

"Oh yes," Sansa nodded eagerly. She was very pretty, especially so when her face was lit up like this. "The Prince is very handsome, and I hear he's very kind."

Joanna couldn't help her smile from fading, though she was quick to cover it. She cleared her throat and forced the smile back on her face again.

"Well, I bet you'll love King's Landing. A young lady like you will simply thrive at court."

"You think so?" Sansa asked, sounding truly hopeful. Joanna nodded eagerly.

"Oh yes," she assured. "Everybody will love you. Tomorrow, I hope you'll show me around Winterfell?"

"Of course, my Lady," she replied, nodding dutifully. Joanna could practically see the excitement in her eyes.

"Wonderful," she smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze Sansa's hand before standing once more. She weaved through the crowds, taking in the energy of everyone around her. There were some who called out to her, trying to make conversation, who she didn't know. Regardless, Joanna was happy to converse with them, sharing a joke or two before moving on. As she was about to make her way back to her seat, she was startled by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find her Uncle Jaime towering over her, pulling her close so she could hear him over the commotion of the crowded hall.

"You should come with me," he said, gently taking her upper arm. "Your mother wants to speak with you."

Joanna huffed out a breath, but turned and allowed him to lead her away. Jaime guided her through the lines of crowded tables with a hand on her back.

"Did she say what she wanted?" Joanna asked.

"No, but she wanted you quickly." Jaime kept his voice low as they walked. "And she didn't sound happy."

"When does she?" she murmured under her breath. She caught Jaime's faint chuckle, but he didn't give her a reply. He left her when they reached the high table upon the dais at the end of the hall, patting her shoulder and urging her over to her mother before walking away. Joanna approached the front of the table, dipping down in a light curtsy as was expected of her in public.

"Yes, Mother?" she asked.

"I want you off to bed," Cersei replied, staring off somewhere past Joanna's shoulder. "Take Myrcella with you. Quickly now."

"But Mother –" Joanna started, about to protest that it was still early in the night. Cersei silenced her with a hard look. Sighing, she nodded, taking one step before realizing that she was stood before Catelyn Stark as well.

"Lady Stark, the meal was delicious," she said, smiling. Lady Stark nodded, but Cersei cut in before there could be a reply.

" _Joanna_."

Knowing better than to open her mouth again, she nodded down at Lady Stark before stepping down from the dais again. She looked out over the crowded hall, trying to remember where it was that her mother was staring. Finally, she caught sight of her father across the hall, mouth trailing wet, drunken kisses upon the neck of a serving maid. She hurried over to her sister, helping her rise from the table and making sure that Myrcella didn't look behind her as they fled from the hall.

Intelligent and well-read as she was, Myrcella was still of an age where she thought that all men and women who got married were in love, their parents included. Neither Cersei nor Joanna wanted her to witness the King's drunken debauchery, least of all on such a happy night. Joanna hadn't been much older than Myrcella was when she'd witnessed her father leaving the great hall one evening with a maid attached to his arm, tipsy with drink and his hands grabbing at her ass. Though she loved her father, she had always looked at him differently since that night.

Joanna took her up to her chambers, Desmera at their heels. Myrcella was simply delighted at the night she'd had, chattering about the friend she hoped she'd made in Sansa, and how lovely she looked, and how excited she was to be in Winterfell. When they reached the chamber that Joanna had been given, Desmera undressed the girls, letting down their hair and brushing through it before leaving them to sleep.

The two girls climbed under the blankets and furs, settling down for bed. It had been a long time, Joanna felt, since the two had shared a bed. Myrcella was old enough now that she was fine if she had a nightmare, and she no longer needed to crawl into her sister's bed. It was nice to share a bed with her again. She felt like she was young again, a little girl sharing stories with her sister before they went to sleep. It felt like such a crime when they were abed together, their Septa under the assumption that they were asleep, but really they stayed awake hours past their bedtime to visit, giggling quietly and talking in soft voices with each other.

Tonight, however, Myrcella fell asleep almost immediately. She only had time to kiss her sister's cheek goodnight before she drifted off. Joanna, not nearly as tuckered out as her sister, had time to herself to process her first day in Winterfell. Aside from the feast and the arrival itself, it was uneventful, spent mostly refreshing herself from travel and getting situated in her new chambers for the time being. Knowing that she would not be allowed to sleep in the next morning, Joanna settled into bed, forcing herself to rest. That evening, she found herself drifting off slowly, consumed with thoughts of Winterfell.

* * *

 **A/N: All characters, by the way, are property of GRRM. Joanna is the only one who belongs to me. Desmera Redwyne and Septa Eglantine are GRRM's characters, but their personalities and physical traits are my creation.**

 **Huge thanks to sousie, darkwolf76, FanaticShipper, Arianna Le Fay, Bruna Santos 30, Elfsquire90, musicluver246, HPuni101, and Bella-swan11 for the reviews! It really does mean the world to me when I see people react to my work, especially in such a constructive way as all of you have. Additional love and thanks to those of you out there who've faved and added this story to your follows!**

 **Now, our first glimpse at Joanna! Last chapter she was just a bitty baby, and now she's almost an adult. I'd love to see what you all think of her so far! There will definitely be changes in store for her, as there will be for all of these characters, but for now I'd be very interested to hear about your impressions of her. Next chapter we'll see her interacting with the Starks a lot more, and we'll see more of Winterfell and possibly some more interaction between Joanna and her family, including some members of her family that we didn't see this chapter.**

 **I've got a start on chapter 2, but I'm not positive when I'll have it out yet. This story is really more of a side project for my free time rather than a main project, so I'll probably be pretty sporadic on updates. I'll mostly be writing whenever the mood strikes me. Still, I've got a lot of ideas for this story that I'm rather excited to get to, so I don't expect that you'll be waiting _months_ for updates.**

 **I hope you enjoyed, and whether you did or didn't, I'd still love to hear! I'm a recreational writer, but still seeking to get better, and if anyone has any constructive criticism - or, really, any thoughts at all - I'd be very happy to read them!**

 **Thank you all for reading!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	3. II: Needlepoint

II

 _Needlepoint_

Shortly after they broke their fast in the dinner hall, Lady Sansa took Joanna by the arm and led her through the corridors of Winterfell. She was a delightful companion, Joanna found, who clearly minded her Septa very well; every question Joanna posed to her about Winterfell's history was answered with little hesitation. Part of Joanna wished she had that sort of discipline, to have sat still long enough to learn her own history, but the rest of her was content with learning only when she asked a question.

By noontide, Joanna felt as though she learned the whole history of House Stark and their home. Sansa's history lesson was sprinkled with questions about King's Landing, which Joanna was happy to answer. She could not give the history of King's Landing as Sansa gave the history of Winterfell, but luckily those were not the kinds of answers that Sansa was looking for. Joanna wanted to learn about Winterfell's past, about the people that used to walk its halls in times gone by; Sansa wanted to know what courtly life was like, what gossip was fresh and what the southern fashions were. Still, Joanna found that she enjoyed Sansa's company, and was happy to join her when she sat for needlepoint, though typically she detested such pastime.

Though Joanna wasn't skilled at embroidery, she could understand why so many ladies of her station found it an enjoyable hobby. There was something rather satisfying about doing such precise work, and seeing the fruits of your labor once you were done. Joanna, though, could never sit with one piece of embroidery long enough to see her finished work. With anyone else, Joanna would have been embarrassed to see her meagre needlepoint skills outshone by someone younger, but she was rather delighted to see the various samplers that Sansa had finished.

She soon found that it was true what she'd said to Sansa the evening before; she would positively thrive at court. She enjoyed the little pleasantries and trivialities of courtly life. She had the patience and the steady mind that put her at ease among a sewing circle. Joanna so often found that she had to force herself to enjoy it.

"What are you working on?" Sansa asked, halfway through their sitting. They had been joined by Desmera and Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole, both at work on their own samplers. Joanna looked down at the aimless pattern she'd created with needle and thread, tilting her head to try and remember what she'd set about making when she first sat down.

"I think it's a tree," she replied, determining that the aimless lines of bronze thread were the outline of a tree trunk. Septa Eglantine always chided that she got lost in thought too easily, and that her needlework suffered for it.

Sansa, gods bless her heart, was encouraging.

"Yes, I see," she smiled. "That's the trunk, isn't it?"

Joanna chuckled down at her own work, shaking her head. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Well, it's a very good start."

"Thank you, Sansa," she said. It struck her suddenly that King's Landing might trod on Sansa and crush her like a flower. A frown appeared on her face, then was gone almost as soon as it came as she forced herself to move onto a different train of thought.

Joanna grew bored with needlepoint soon after, but forced herself to remain for a while longer in fear of offending Sansa. She lazily threaded her needle through the fabric, allowing her thoughts to wander far away from sewing, caring not how her embroidered tree turned out. Sansa used her talent in needlework to make pretty dresses for herself, but Joanna had an army of tailors to do the needlework for her. Finally, when she could no longer force herself to suffer the sport, she stood.

"I'm going to stretch my legs, I get restless sitting so long," she said. "Mera, will you join me?"

"Of course," Desmera replied, happily standing and setting down her needlework. Desmera, too, was dismal at best with embroidery, though not for lack of trying. Where Joanna could find the precise work satisfying, if boring, Desmera found it altogether frustrating and needless. She was happy to join Joanna in leaving the room.

"Thank you for showing me your home, Sansa," said Joanna before they left. "I do hope you'll join me again tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes," Sansa replied, nodding and smiling prettily. Joanna returned her smile before leaving the room arm-in-arm with Desmera.

Once they were down the hall, and far away enough that they didn't have to worry that anyone would overhear, Joanna let out a long sigh.

"Are we terrible if we can't sew for shit?" she asked. Desmera chuckled behind her hand.

"What do we need it for, anyway?" she agreed. "It's only because they can't think of anything else for us to do."

"To be fair, though," Joanna shrugged, "We can't, either."

They laughed together, walking aimlessly through the corridors for another moment before they found themselves outside. If there was one thing Joanna loved and missed about King's Landing, it was the open-air rooms and the expansive gardens. She couldn't bear to be holed up in a room, and loved nothing more than the feeling of wind and fresh air on her face. If something could be done outside, then she did it outside.

There was little to do in the courtyard, but they were perfectly happy to walk in a circle around the edges of the yard. They were halfway through their walk, just passing the smithy, when they came upon the training grounds. The area would have gone unnoticed by either of them, but when Desmera looked over briefly, she caught sight of who was drilling.

"Oh, Joanna!" she said, pausing and grinning with delight as she pointed over at the training yard. "Look who it is!"

Joanna looked over, curious, to see Tommen dressed in padded armor, half-heartedly sparring with young Bran Stark. She laughed, positively gleeful to see the boys training. She approached, standing with Desmera by a fence at the edge of the yard. She couldn't help but think that the boys looked adorable in their padded armor, swinging around their little wooden swords. The both of them were puffing with the effort, red in the face. Their brothers, standing on the opposite side of the yard, were calling out encouragements – though Joanna assumed, by the vicious look on Joffrey's face, that his encouragements were a shade closer to threats.

The fight only lasted a few moments longer, before Tommen lost his feet and was on the ground. Just as Bran reared up the wooden sword, the master-at-arms called for the boys to stop. There was a small smattering of applause from the crowd of men who gathered, slapping the young boys on their backs as they were relieved of the armor. Joanna and Desmera crossed the yard to them, and she knelt by Tommen once his armor was gone.

"You did so well!" she said, smiling.

"I did not." He kicked the dirt. "I lost."

"Oh, but I saw you fight, and you fought hard. Before long you'll be as good a fighter as Uncle Jaime."

"You shouldn't fill his head with such fantasies," said a sour voice from beside them. Joanna had no control over the nasty look that came over her face. "It'll only turn him soft. He fought like a girl out there."

"Go away," she frowned, turning to look up at the elder of her younger brothers. Joffrey only scoffed.

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Go away," she repeated firmly. "Or else I'll hit you."

"Oh, hit me?" he chuckled, arms crossed over his chest. "More of a tap, I think."

"I could slap you and make you squeal like a pig," she insisted, voice hard. "And all of the men here would see you for the whiny little child you are."

He went red in the face, and she was sure she was about to make him squeal without laying a hand on him. He struggled for a moment before finally becoming able to release his words from his throat.

"You can't speak to me like that!"

"I already did." She turned away from him now, smoothing down Tommen's rustled hair. She continued under her breath, "Go cry to Mother about it."

She doubted he heard her, but he stomped off, likely about to go do so.

"You did wonderful, little prince," she said again, and Tommen beamed up at her. She leaned closer to him, lowering your voice. "You practice very hard, so you can become big and strong and you can beat up Joffrey when he bullies you." He grinned, and she stood. "But go congratulate Lord Bran on his win, Father won't like if he hears you're a sore loser."

Tommen nodded dutifully and went to approach Bran, who was still being relieved of his armor.

"Does your Septa teach you sportsmanship, Princess?" someone asked, and Joanna turned to see Lord Robb, the eldest of the Stark children, giving her a bemused look.

"I love to watch the tourneys," she said, smiling. "Father always makes it known when he's displeased with a knight's conduct on the field."

"Do you fancy yourself a master-at-arms?" he asked, and for a moment she was unsure if he'd forgotten himself. But then, after a moment, she saw the teasing that danced upon his expression, and she grinned.

"Why, don't you think I could sport the whiskers?" She nodded her head towards Rodrik Cassel, who was, at present, brushing a hand down the white whiskers that grew from his face. Robb laughed, turning his attention back to her. It was only on her for a moment before something caught his attention over her shoulder, as his eyes shifted off to the side and his expression fell.

"Uh oh," he said under his breath, and started to take a step away before he caught himself. "By your leave, Princess."

"Of course," she replied, confused, and watched after him as he left. He hurried across the yard to a young girl lurking in the shadows of the walls, a wolf pup at her feet. Joanna recognized the girl as Lord and Lady Stark's younger daughter, who she remembered seeing cause mischief at dinner the night before. She watched, head cocked slightly, as Robb talked with her a moment before reluctantly sending her off back into the keep. He smiled after her as she went, dragging her feet and kicking up dust along the way. She couldn't help but remark how different the sisters were.

 _Perhaps that is how all sisters are,_ Joanna mused. _For every sister who loves courtly life, there is another who hates it._

She figured, that must be the gods' divine prank on all the mothers of Westeros. Dimly, she was aware of Desmera sidling up beside her.

"How funny," she commented. "She's like a smaller, wilder version of you."

"I was never so unkempt," Joanna chuckled. "Mother never would have allowed it."

And besides, Joanna thought to herself, she didn't _hate_ courtly life. The menial pastimes, the poetry and the embroidery, she hated. But the court, she loved. There was hardly a thing Joanna liked more than to sit and visit. She loved to hear the latest court gossip, though she never took much stock in what her companions told her. She longed for more freedom in the life she had, but she could never run from the court. She thrived on the attentions of others.

"Always escaping your Septa, though," Desmera said, returning Joanna from her thoughts.

"If they wanted me to mind my Septa, they shouldn't have chosen Eglantine. That woman could bore old Pycelle to death with that voice."

A part of Joanna felt blasphemous for speaking of Eglantine in such a way; for much of her childhood, it was Eglantine, rather than her mother, who minded her. Still, now that she had passed the age of majority and no longer had need of a Septa, she was glad to be free of Eglantine's constant presence.

Arm-in-arm once more, Joanna and Desmera finished their walk around the perimeter of the yard. Just before they reentered the keep, Joanna cast one more look over her shoulder, thoughts lingering on Lord Stark's son. To her delight, she found that he was watching her go. They hardly had time to exchange a small smile before she went indoors.

* * *

Tyrion Lannister couldn't say that Winterfell was a place that he had been particularly excited to visit. He fancied himself a man of learning, however, and thus viewed his time in Winterfell as a learning opportunity. The first thing he'd decided to learn was what Northern whores were like. After he was retrieved from the whorehouse so politely by his brother, he hadn't found an opportunity to go back. Instead, he had a servant lead him to Winterfell's library, deciding to take a look around at what the Starks had to offer.

The Starks were never considered the sharpest of wits, but Tyrion was sure that he would be able to find one or two hidden gems in the depths of their library. Septon Chayle, the ancient keeper of Winterfell's library, droned on about what sort of books could be found there. Tyrion allowed his voice to be forgotten in the background while he went off in search of books himself. He'd managed to find several that piqued his interest, and once he formed a decent sized stack, he took them to a table that stood in the center of the room.

He'd just opened the cover of a heavy, leather-bound book when he decided he couldn't stand the Septon's monotonous voice any longer. He drew in a deep breath, refraining from rolling his eyes.

"Thank you, that'll be all," he said in one breath. The Septon seemed quite startled at the sudden dismissal, but shuffled off nonetheless. Content, Tyrion settled in with the book, losing himself in the content and paying no mind to the sound of the heavy library doors opening or the footsteps that crossed the room.

"I thought I'd find you here," came a familiar voice, and Tyrion looked up to see Joanna settling in a chair across the table.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing needlepoint, or poetry?"

Joanna's only response was to shrug. "I missed you at the feast last night," she said instead. "Where were you?"

"If I told you, your mother would kill me," he replied, lowering his voice conspiratorially. She giggled, lowering her voice as well.

"I'm glad I found you here instead of there."

"How are you finding Winterfell?" he asked, flipping a page in his book.

"Not quite as many revels as King's Landing," she replied, shrugging. "But it's homely."

" _Homely_ ," Tyrion repeated, snorting a little. "I'm glad it's treating you well."

"And how do you like Winterfell?" she asked in return.

"The food was delicious," he responded, then he continued in an even lower voice, "And the whores even more so."

Joanna covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

"Were you looking for something?" he continued.

"Entertainment," Joanna said with a shrug. Then, leaning forward onto her elbows, she continued in a lower voice, "I'm hiding from my mother."

"Well, if she asks, I'll say I haven't seen you," Tyrion responded, turning another page in his books. Joanna dimly wondered if he was actually reading or not. "Though as much as I would typically support your endeavors in hiding from my sister, I do suggest that you return." Finally, he looked up from his book. "It's not safe to be wandering about on your own, even here among the Starks. Your father may trust them indiscriminately, but I do not – nor does your mother, for that matter, and perhaps for good reason."

"And what reason would that be?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Tyrion crossed his hands over the pages of his book.

"They are not us," he said softly but firmly. "I think perhaps it is wiser for us to make our own judgement about the Starks rather than to follow your father's judgement."

"Mother is paranoid," Joanna scoffed, rolling her eyes. "And as much as you deny it, it's one of the many traits you share."

"Still," he said, "It's probably best if you return to your mother's chambers. Or, at the very least, to yours."

Thinking, she quirked her mouth. "Are you saying this just to be left alone?"

"Of course not, I speak only out of concern for my dearest niece," he responded, lips raising in a subtle smile. "Now leave me be."

Chuckling, she briefly placed a hand over his before standing.

"Alright," she sighed dramatically. She walked to the doors before briefly turning back. "But if I die of boredom in my chambers, the blame will be on you."

"Indeed," Tyrion chuckled quietly, and turned his focus back to his book.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello everyone, sorry about the wait! Again, this is a side project that is for my free time, and while I'll try to keep updates somewhat regular, I'm not keeping myself on any sort of schedule. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait.**

 **We got a little more interaction with some of the Starks this chapter, and an introduction to one Stark who will play a significant role later in the story. (Um, Robb. That character is Robb. No spoilers, promise, it's in the tags.) There will be interaction with more characters the more we progress, but I'm pacing myself for now.**

 **I'll be the first to say that I'm not nearly as clever as Tyrion Lannister is, so I hope I kept him in character. If there's any out of character moments with any of the characters, please let me know so I can work out the kinks!**

 **Huge thanks to HPuni101, darkwolf76, Arianna le Fay, TheNextGreatAdventure, and EpitomyofShyness for the reviews! Quick note, by the way: the last paragraph of chapter 1 has had some edits made based on a suggestion by EpitomyofShyness. Thanks for the comment! Hopefully now it'll be a bit more pleasant to read. A few more quick notes on darkwolf76's review: we'll soon see more about how Jaime and Cersei feel about Joanna! As for whether Robert will be arranging an engagement, I can't give everything away - though if I do say so myself, this story is going to take quite a different turn from most other "legitimate Baratheon daughter" stories (But I won't pretend to have read them all. I haven't.)**

 **Again, I'd love to hear any thoughts on this chapter, the characters, the story in general! Good or bad, I'd love to hear what you think (though if you like the story, nice comments certainly help the creative juices flow.) This story is unbeta'd, so if there are any typos, errors, or general comments about what can be improved, I'd love to hear about them so I can make the appropriate changes!**

 **Thanks again for reading, everyone.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	4. III: Scenery

III

 _Scenery_

More often in the week that followed, Joanna found herself leaning against the fence, watching the boys and men spar on the training grounds. With or without Desmera by her side (though usually with) she would bundle herself in her warm cloak and gloves and brave the Northern chill to watch them train. Ostensibly, it was to support her brothers as they learned swordplay, though she was sure that many were aware that she came primarily to ogle the men who were of an age with her.

Robb Stark always seemed quite aware of her gaze, but his swordplay never suffered for it. He seemed to ignore her presence once the spar began, but once or twice she caught his eyes when he'd glance over in the midst of fighting. He may have fancied himself the sole focus of her gaze, but Joanna watched the fighting men indiscriminately. Though the training was primarily for her brothers and Lord Stark's sons, once they'd finished their drills, the other men would challenge each other to a spar in a test of strength and skill.

She did so enjoy watching them work up a sweat, especially the younger guardsmen who were aware of her gaze and unlaced their doublets to allow her a better view.

"Joanna," Desmera said, half-admonishing, but unable to hide the chuckle in her voice. "You stare at them like a starving dog stares at a piece of meat."

"They want me to," she shrugged, not bothering to turn away from the men hacking at each other on the training field. Of the many pastimes available to her in Winterfell, this had to be her favorite.

"It's not appropriate," Desmera insisted, tugging her away from the fence by the arm. Heaving a sigh, Joanna allowed herself to be pulled away.

"What are we supposed to do now?" she huffed. Desmera linked their arms together, pulling her quickly through the courtyard and back into the keep. "You can't expect me to read poetry for the rest of the afternoon, can you?"

"Of course not," she replied in a hushed voice, pausing their conversation for a moment as they passed someone in the halls. "You realize your chamber has a fine view of the training ground, don't you?"

Joanna stopped in her tracks, but Desmera tugged her along down the hallway, not breaking stride once.

"You are a wicked woman," Joanna cackled, hurrying to keep pace with her friend. "I wish I was half as clever as you."

Desmera truly was the perfect companion, Joanna believed; the moment they'd entered her chambers, she locked the door behind them so they would not be disturbed. There were two plush sitting chairs by the fireplace, and the girls dragged them across the room to the window, where they perched themselves with their elbows on the wooden windowsill.

"The young Lord Stark sure is handsome, isn't he?" Desmera sighed.

"Indeed," Joanna agreed, eyes cast over the training field. She watched the young men spar within the enclosure, following the hard lines of their bodies as they fine-tuned their technique with the sword. There was one in particular, though, on whom her eye lingered. He had only stepped into the training field once or twice, and otherwise kept quiet and to the side. "I like that bastard brother of his, too."

"Joanna!" Desmera gasped. She cast a quick look at the locked door before sending a scowl over at the princess by the window. "You shouldn't say things like that," she scolded.

"What?" Joanna huffed, rolling her eyes. "I didn't say I wanted to marry him. I just think he's handsome, that's all."

"Still," she sighed, shaking her head. "Too often you forget to keep your mouth shut and incite your mother's ire. She wouldn't yell at you half as often if you thought before you spoke."

Joanna knew she was right, and didn't have anything to say. Instead, she folded her arms on the windowsill and set her chin upon them. She turned her attention away from Jon Snow and back to his legitimate brother. One day, she knew, she'd be married to a noble lord, probably somewhere in the south so her mother could still breathe down her neck. That day wouldn't be soon, she hoped. For all that her father seemed to ignore her, he still protested whenever anyone so much as hinted that she might be married soon.

She remembered, when she was Myrcella's age, a rumor had sparked at court that she would one day be betrothed to Willas Tyrell. In the sewing circle that day, all her companions told her how handsome they'd heard he was, how gentle and kind. Certainly not a knight in shining armor, not since he'd had his leg crushed by a horse, but they'd sung praises about how intelligent and scholarly he'd become. When Joanna has asked her mother that evening if the rumor was true, she was rebuffed. _Of course not_ , Cersei had said. She would give her daughter something better than Highgarden. Joanna wasn't sure how much better it could get. It wasn't like she was ever going to become queen.

Her thoughts had drawn her attentions away from the sparring men, but they were interrupted when a knock came at the door.

"It's Queen Cersei, my lady," called the guard. Joanna sighed, but didn't move from her spot.

"I'm dressing!" she called back. Desmera sighed softly, shoving Joanna's shoulder before standing from her seat. She crossed the room and unlatched the door, dropping into a curtsy once it swung open.

"My Queen," she said, eyes to the ground. Cersei stepped past her without acknowledging her.

"Joanna," she said, standing in the center of the room and waiting for her daughter to turn and acknowledge her. Joanna turned right away. "It's been brought to my attention that you haven't been attending needlepoint."

"You say attending as though I _have_ to go," Joanna frowned, mouth pinched. Cersei blinked down at her.

"You do _have_ to go." She held up a hand when Joanna opened her mouth to protest. "You have to be sociable with the Starks. I heard that you had taken well to Lady Sansa, what happened?"

Handsome, sweaty, fighting men is what happened. Joanna clasped her hands together, remembering what Desmera said about thinking before she opened her fat mouth.

"I will join Myrcella and Lady Sansa in sewing tomorrow," she replied, deciding to take the direct route to preventing her mother from growing angry.

"Good. I hope Eglantine has something good to say tomorrow."

"She will, Mother."

Without another word, and hardly another glance, Cersei swept out of the room again. Joanna slumped back in the chair. She did feel bad about hardly spending any time with Sansa, as the girl was sweet and was truly a good companion. Still, she thought, casting a look out the window at the training grounds, she would miss watching the young men spar.

But, Joanna had said that she would join the other girls tomorrow. Until then, she would make herself comfortable by the window sill and ogle the men, trying to memorize how they looked so she could think about them when she was bored.

* * *

Joanna tried to enjoy needlepoint. She began with a little design, something that she thought was progressing fairly well with her meagre skill. For the first little while, she listened as the other girls talked, still sore that she wasn't allowed to go out and walk around and enjoy Winterfell's 'scenery'. Not wanting her frustration to bleed through her words at the girls, who didn't deserve to have it directed at them, she opted for once to keep her mouth shut.

Until, of course, the gossip began. There was nothing Joanna loved more than gossip, but she didn't quite know how to react when it was about her.

"Joanna," said Sansa, her voice pitch conspiratorially low as she scooted forward in her seat. She had waited for Eglantine and Mordane to step to the side to begin speaking. "I heard my brother Robb talking about you with his friend Theon Greyjoy."

"Oh?" said Joanna, keeping her tone carefully neutral. "And what did he say?"

"They think you're pretty," Sansa replied eagerly, chittering like it was the most exciting thing she'd heard in an age. "Theon said other things," she scrunched her nose briefly, "but Robb said he thought you were good-natured."

 _Good-natured_ , Joanna thought. She had been called many things by young men, but good-natured was certainly a new one. Still, she wouldn't complain – she had been called far worse things by slighted young men who'd been denied her attentions. She wasn't stuck on _that_ comment though; They thought she was pretty. She had been called pretty by countless people, and whether they thought it was true or not had never mattered to her. But now someone that Joanna liked thought she was pretty, and she felt warmth rise in her cheeks.

"He really said that?" she asked.

Sansa nodded. "Theon was nasty, but Robb said that you were very kind when you spoke with him. When did you speak with him?"

"No," Joanna said, shaking her head. "He…" She paused, clearing her throat and trying to appear blasé. "He said I was pretty?"

"He said you were beautiful," Sansa corrected with a grin. "Theon said...said something vulgar about you, but that was when Robb said that you were beautiful and kind."

Then Myrcella giggled and the warmth immediately left Joanna's cheeks. She looked down at her embroidery and pretended to find it much more interesting.

"Are you going to marry Robb Stark?" she asked, bouncing slightly in her seat.

"Of course not –"

"Then we _really_ would be sisters!" Sansa added excitedly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Joanna said. She cast a glance over to Desmera for help. The other girl blinked, trying to think of what to say to get the girls to stop badgering Joanna, before setting down her sampler.

"Princess Myrcella, you know your father would never allow it," she said.

"But Father loves Ned Stark," Myrcella insisted.

"But he loves your sister more, doesn't he?" She picked up her needlepoint again, raising her eyebrows to show she'd made her point. "Fathers never like to lose their little princesses to marriage."

"I suppose you're right," she conceded, relaxing back in her seat again.

"Oh, but it would be so wonderful, wouldn't it?" Sansa sighed, returning her attention to her embroidery once more.

"But if you went to King's Landing and I stayed in Winterfell, we would never see each other," Joanna pointed out.

"I guess that's true," Sansa said. Arya, who had watched the exchange quietly and with a look of annoyance, finally spoke up.

"Boys are stupid, anyway."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the wait, and for the short chapter today. I was hoping to get this one done before I went on vacation. Once I got back, I wasn't sure what else to write for this chapter, and I figured that we'll just settle for a bit of a shorter chapter, given that this one's mostly just filler anyway. We'll start getting to some actual meaningful plot happenings next chapter, I promise.**

 **In this chapter, Joanna and Desmera are teenage girls. Don't pretend that if y'all were the princess of Westeros you wouldn't be doing the same thing. (I know I would.)**

 **Huge thanks to HPuni101, birdy, xenocanaan, darkwolf76 (x2!), Lt-Spork89, Loverofcolours, ZabuzasGirl, and Adhara Snow for the reviews! I appreciate all of your feedback and support so much. In response to a small question posed by Darkwolf76: Desmera is a fairly minor character for now, but that will change in many ways in the future. ;) Sorry I couldn't get you guys a longer chapter with a bit more meat on its bones, but I promise the next one will be a doozy...**

 **Once again, thank you all for reading! Also, shout out to everyone who has faved this story and added this to your follows. I really appreciate it!**

 **The next chapter will be here in due time, I promise.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	5. IV: Hunt

IV

 _Hunt_

It was three weeks into their stay at Winterfell that the hunt occurred. Joanna had become aware that the men were going on a hunt several days beforehand, and conspired with Desmera for what would occur before the day's event. She made sure to be up before the sun, dressed and ready to head downstairs to the stables before her mother could send for her and force her to do something boring like always. When Desmera joined her in her chamber, she dragged her over to the chest that contained her wardrobe and they dug through it until they found Joanna's riding habit.

Desmera braided her hair, pulling it back so it wouldn't get tangled in the wind, then clasped Joanna's heavy riding cloak over her shoulders. Kissing Desmera's cheek to thank her, Joanna left her chambers and hurried down to the courtyard, hoping that the hunting party hadn't left without her. Servants and stable hands were bustling everywhere, preparing horses and food for the hunting party. Joanna was searching out her father, keen on getting his permission to accompany him as quickly as she could, lest her mother notice her somehow and demand that she return inside.

"There's my riding partner!" came the booming voice of her father, and Joanna broke out into a grin. He opened his arms to invite her into a hug, kissing her hair once he had her in his embrace. Robert was not a doting father, and though he loved his children, it wasn't often that Joanna had the pleasure of his attentions, least of all his affection. He called for a horse to be saddled for her, and let his heavy arm rest around her shoulders while they waited.

"What are we hunting today, Father?" she asked, beaming up at him.

"Boar, I think," he replied. "But they say all manner of beast lives in the Wolfswood. There's no telling what we might catch."

The way he spoke with her was almost as if he were telling a spooky story to a child. Part of her found it endearing, that he still regarded her as his little girl. Part of her found it annoying. When her horse arrived, he left her to mount his own stallion. She pulled herself onto the back of the horse, straightening her skirts around her.

"Come to watch the hunt, sister?" Joffrey asked, approaching upon his own horse. Joanna had to physically refrain herself from rolling her eyes or blanching in repulsion.

"Watch," she agreed, "and perhaps participate."

Joffrey scoffed, as expected, and stuck his nose in the air haughtily. "I don't expect you'll catch very much. Women like you are feeble, not cut out for such sport."

"We'll see who is the better marksman," she replied, swiftly moving her horse away from him and across the yard before her younger brother could antagonize her further. Arguing with him and kicking up a fuss was the quickest way for her to get sent back inside.

She'd been accompanying her father on hunts for several years, since she was about eleven or twelve. Her mother wasn't fond of her going off with the men, didn't want her around their drink and language. Robert, however, was glad to share his love of hunting with one of his children, since Joffrey at the time was considered too young to come with them, and it had quickly become something that they did together. Robert was the only reason that Cersei allowed Joanna to go; he was the King, and he got what he wanted. Joanna, in turn, did too.

"Come on, boys! Let's go kill some boar!"

With a smile, Joanna kicked her horse and hurried to the front of the party, falling into step near her father. He rode near to Ned Stark, joking with him and telling stories of the past. Her father had always loved the Starks, had always spoken highly of the family. In turn, Joanna held the family in rather high regard, despite having never met them before now. Her mother had taught her to be mistrustful of the world around her, to be wary of all who weren't family. In general, Joanna heeded her advice, as it was fairly sound. In the world they lived in, there was little worth in trusting those who weren't your family. But she had heard her father's tales of his youth with Ned Stark, and she knew her history. Ned was a brother to Robert in all but name, and that made them family. That made them trustworthy. That was what she believed.

Turning her attentions from her father and Lord Stark ahead, she looked over at Lord Stark's sons, his trueborn and his bastard, as well as the Greyjoy ward that was their companion. They were laughing together about something or the other, but what intrigued Joanna the most were the pups trailing after their horses. One was scruffy, brown and grey like a true wolf, and the other was bright white with piercing red eyes. The wolves ignored all that was around them, unlike the hounds whose noses were to the ground the moment they reached the forest, instead keeping their attention on their masters.

The boys must have noticed her attentions, as they paused their conversation and turned to her instead.

"Are those wolves?" she asked, steering her horse closer.

"Aye," Robb replied with a nod of his head. "Direwolf pups."

"Direwolves?" she frowned. "I thought they were extinct."

"There are none south of the wall, except these," he responded, beckoning to the pups at their heels. "Each of my brothers and sisters has one."

"What, a Northern tradition?"

"We found them last month on a ride," he explained, chuckling at her confusion. "Their mother had been slain by a stag."

"I suppose they'll be helpful on the hunt," she said, staring down at the wolves again.

"Do you hunt, my lady?" the Greyjoy lad asked. She shrugged a shoulder.

"I try," she said, laughing. "But I do love to watch."

As though on cue, the hounds caught a sent, darting through the woods howling and barking. The party followed, kicking their horses into a gallop. Joanna, who loved to ride more than she loved to join the hunt, was happy to join in their revelry.

In general, she didn't participate in the hunt as much as watch. She enjoyed the exhilaration of the chase, but had very little desire to feel the thrill of a kill. She was not skilled with a crossbow and had only a basic understanding of archery, and the only hunting knife she'd ever received (as a present from her father on her sixteenth birthday) was more of an ornament than an actual tool. Still, she found tagging along to be wonderful entertainment.

They spent the better part of the morning unsuccessful, chasing scents the hounds picked up or in pursuit of a boar. Most of their success came from lesser game, pheasant or rabbit. Once, during a brief reprieve in a clearing, her father beckoned her over, motioning for her to dismount. When she did, sidling up beside him, he handed her a crossbow. She was startled at the weight, and fumbled with it for a moment.

"What is it?" she asked, confused. He put an arm around her shoulders and pointed through the woods, directing her eye to a small rabbit sitting, unaware, at the base of a tree.

"That one, there," he said. "Let's see if you can make your first kill."

Surprised, she looked between her father and the crossbow. "I've never…"

"Robb!" Lord Stark called, beckoning his eldest over from where he was standing with his brother and the Greyjoy lad. Robb approached, a questioning look on his face. "Princess Joanna needs instruction with the crossbow."

"Of course," he replied, approaching further. He held the bottom of the crossbow, supporting most of its weight as he explained to her how to hold it properly. Once she'd managed to heft it up properly, she lowered her head to aim. Robb moved to stand behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder and reaching around her to help support the weight of the end of the crossbow.

It took her a moment to aim, squinting one of her eyes to try and improve her vision. Once she felt sure she had aimed directly at the rabbit, she pressed down on the trigger. The crossbow recoiled into her shoulder, sending her back thumping into Robb's chest. He stepped away immediately, but Joanna's attention was on the rabbit. The bolt had landed just next to the rabbit, which startled and scampered off into its burrow.

"Good shot!" the King delighted, clapping a hand onto her shoulder.

"But I missed," she frowned, attention on the spot where the bolt had landed uselessly.

"Sure, but you were close," he insisted. "We'll make a marksman of you yet – and a damn fine hunter, too."

He took the crossbow from her hands, handing it back to his squire. Another squire had run off to retrieve the bolt. Their hunt continued with scant success for another hour or so until the King decided that they were hungry, and they found yet another clearing in which to take their luncheon. Joanna pulled off her leather gloves, tucking them in her belt. The servants spread out blankets on the grass, serving them plates of venison and last night's veal. Joanna took a seat with Lord Stark's sons, sitting beside them and their Greyjoy friend.

"Are you enjoying the hunt, Princess?" Theon Greyjoy asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Oh, I am," she replied. "Though I'm afraid we won't be having boar for dinner tonight."

"And how are you finding the North?" Robb asked.

"Wonderful," she replied with an easy smile. "It's a lovely country. Very quiet, compared to King's Landing."

Robb responded, but Joanna quickly stopped listening, instead watching his bastard brother. He sat with them, but while she was there, he didn't say a single word. She wondered why, but for once, wasn't tactless enough to interrupt and ask. Her eyes traced his face, unaware of her gaze on him, before she remembered that she was supposed to be engaged in conversation and turned back to Robb and Theon. They had started talking to each other about the creatures that lived in the Wolfswood.

"Have you ever seen a bear?" Joanna asked, thrilled and curious.

"Once," Robb nodded, leaning back on his hand. "They're not as scary at a distance. She had her cubs with her and wasn't keen to fight."

"Sounds incredible," she sighed, imagining she could do such fun things as go riding in the forest. Times in which she got to ride in the Kingswood, aside from accompanying her father on a hunt, were few and far between. More often than not, her mother kept her confined to the Red Keep, scarcely allowing her out of her chambers unaccompanied.

"It was," Robb agreed with a nod. "They're not often out in –"

"Robb! Jon!" Lord Stark called. All of their attentions turned to him, but he said nothing more to them, instead only mounting his horse. Robb and Jon, quickly understanding that it was something urgent, followed suit. The three men dashed off through the forest, accompanied by a rider who wasn't part of their party. Theon hurried after them, and Joanna stood.

"What's going on?" she asked, walking over to her father, who was being helped onto his horse.

"There's been an accident at the keep," he replied gruffly. The servants quickly cleared up the food and blankets, hurrying to ready everyone's horses for the trip back. Joanna's horse was ready almost immediately, and she kicked her horse to keep pace with her father.

"What sort of accident?" she asked, heart pounding beneath her ribcage. The horses of the Starks were already out of sight.

"I dunno," he replied, distracted. "Something with one of Ned's boys."

She was quiet for the rest of the ride through the woods and to Winterfell. The keep was buzzing with activity, but muted somehow, as though everyone was busy but not saying a single word. Her father marched to the hall, Joanna trailing meekly behind. Her mother and younger siblings were already in the hall, Myrcella crying into her mother's side.

"What happened?" Robert asked, voice rough.

"The second youngest," Cersei replied softly, distracted. "He was climbing; they say he fell from a tower."

"Is he alive?" Joanna asked softly, one hand over her heart.

"For now," Cersei replied, eyes low, voice so soft that Joanna hardly heard. She was vaguely aware of Joffrey entering the hall behind her, grumbling lowly about the hunt being cut short. She stepped to the side, continuing to avoid her brother just as she'd done during the hunt. Myrcella sniffed, rubbing her nose weakly.

"Come here, sweet girl," Robert said, beckoning Myrcella away from her mother's arms. Cersei tried to hold on, but Myrcella slipped away and folded into her father's embrace, burying her face in his massive belly. Joanna wished she could cherish the moment more, seeing her father being tender with her siblings as he so rarely did, but she couldn't bring herself to be anything but numbly aware of her surroundings. She sat down heavily on the bench of the table, slumping against the back of it.

Desmera sat down beside her, taking Joanna's hand in both of hers. Scooting close, she leaned her head down on her shoulder, and Joanna rested her head on top of hers. They sat closely for several moments, before Robert released Myrcella and instructed that they all return to their chambers and freshen themselves up for dinner. Cersei reached out and pulled Myrcella to her side again, guiding her and Tommen out of the room, beckoning for Joffrey to follow her out. Joanna was left in the hall.

"Go on," said Robert. Desmera stood, guiding Joanna through the halls and up to her chamber by the hand.

"Isn't it terrible, Mera?" Joanna sighed, letting her riding gown slide off as Desmera untied the laces. "And to think, it had been such a lovely morning."

Desmera stripped Joanna down to her shift, tossing the gown over the side of the trunk that contained her wardrobe. Joanna trailed over to her bed, slipping underneath the blankets and furs. She sank into her pillow with a heavy heart.

"Would you like me to leave, Milady?" Desmera asked, standing with her hands clasped in front of her. Joanna thought for a moment.

"No, Mera. Join me."

Desmera smiled at her friend's request, tugging off her boots and leaving them at the foot of the bed before crawling beneath the covers alongside the princess. They turned on their sides to face each other, and Joanna sighed. Considering for a moment, she pulled her friend close, curling her arms around her and resting her head on Desmera's ample breast. Desmera pulled Joanna close, running a hand over her dark hair.

"It'll all be okay, Milady," she said softly. "You should rest. I'll wake you in time for supper."

Joanna didn't imagine that she'd be very hungry for the rest of the day. But, still, she obliged Desmera's suggestion to sleep. Suddenly all of the fun she'd had that morning seemed dull and unimportant, and all of the riding had made her tired instead of exhilarated. Head pillowed upon Desmera's chest, she drifted in and out of sleep, feeling empty.

* * *

 **A/N: Here it is! And here's some more plot. I figured I should stop writing filler and start moving things forward. I'm expecting this story shall be rather long as it is, filler and exposition aside. Finally some more interaction with the Stark boys, and we'll only see more as these chapters progress.**

 **I'm hoping to get the next chapter out at a fairly reasonable time again. Did you guys watch Episode 9? Whaaaat a damn doozy of an episode. Talk about inspiration fuel! Season 6 is certainly atoning for most of season 5's sins. I'm almost chomping at the bit to get these chapters out. But we'll see what happens.**

 **Huge thanks to darkwolf76, HPuni101, panda bunny 2.0, CasterGirl123, recey2010, and Lt-Spork89 for the reviews! Your support is very much appreciated, I live to see what you guys think of my writing. It's really the best. Shoutouts as well to those of you out there who have added this story to your faves and follows. It really means a lot to know you guys are enjoying this!**

 **Hope to be back soon with another chapter.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	6. V: Godswood

V

 _Godswood_

All of the Baratheon children took their supper in their mother's chambers that evening. Desmera had long since woken Joanna, and was re-braiding her hair when Senelle, Cersei's chief maidservant, came knocking at the door. She was led to Cersei's chamber to find all of her siblings already there. Joanna assumed that the table in the room was put there upon special request, as there was hardly enough room for it.

Once she had sat, Cersei reached across the table to hold one of Joanna's hands.

"You didn't join us in my chamber," she said, running a thumb across the back of her hand. The way Cersei spoke sometimes, it was difficult to tell how she was feeling. Joanna couldn't glean anything from her mother, and took a moment to respond.

"I wanted to retire before dinner," she replied. "I was tired from the hunt."

The curl of Cersei's lip gave away her emotion, but that was no surprise. Joanna knew well just how much her mother disapproved of her accompanying her father on his hunts.

"That was a pitiful hunt," said Joffrey. He leaned back in his chair haughtily, wiping his mouth with his napkin. Joanna bowed her head, hoping to avoid his attention. In times when their mother wasn't around, she could let him get her riled up, because she could spit insults back at him. But in the company of their mother, she had long since learned to keep quiet. That was generally what Cersei wanted of her, anyways. "Those Stark boys hardly have true aim. And those beasts of theirs scared away any game before we could shoot it."

"You're just angry because _they_ caught pheasant and _you_ caught nothing," said Joanna. Immediately, she regretted her words, knowing that with her mother's sour mood lately, it would be all the easier to trigger her temper. She kept her head bowed and her eyes low, picking at her food. The less combative she looked, the more likely Cersei was to ignore her words.

Joffrey was not so easy to placate.

"Any fool could catch a pheasant," he hissed. She could feel the vitriol in his gaze even without looking up from her food. Still, she dutifully kept her mouth shut, as did the others who all knew better than to interrupt Joffrey when he'd found something to rant about. "It was a mercy that the hunt ended so quickly. Those Stark boys could never keep their dignity otherwise, unless they butchered those beasts of theirs and served those up for supper."

Once Joffrey had quieted, the dinner continued for several moments uninterrupted. The only sound in the room was the flicker of the fireplace and the scrape of silverware on the plates. Joanna staunchly kept her gaze averted from everyone in her family, trying to tune out their presence in order to make it through the rest of the dinner. All she had to do was wait until her mother had finished eating, shuffle around her food so it looked like she'd eaten, and then she could leave.

"It's so terrible what happened to Bran," came Myrcella's sweet voice. Joanna's gaze finally rose away from her plate to her younger sister. She didn't seem all that interested in her food, either.

"It's not terrible," Joffrey countered, rolling his eyes. "It was to be expected. Such a feeble boy could never have the strength to be climbing that tower. He was a fool."

Joanna failed to resist the urge to slam her fork back onto the table.

"How dare you say such things," she hissed, glowering across the table at her brother, "about a boy on the edge of death."

"It's true," Joffrey shot back hotly. "He was a fool for climbing the tower and it's his own fault he fell. He deserves to die for making such a mistake –"

Joanna shot to her feet, her seat colliding with the bed behind her, and reached across the table to box Joffrey around the ear. His hands shot to his ear with an angry howl, but Joanna never got the chance to feel the satisfaction set in. Cersei had stood as well and grabbed Joanna by the arm, pulling her out of the chamber and through the hall. She knew immediately that they were headed in the direction of her father's chambers, and Joanna could feel her mood sinking lower and lower the further they walked.

Cersei entered Robert's chambers unannounced. They found him sitting at his desk with a goblet in hand, doublet undone. Joanna had the presence of mind to faintly be glad that he wasn't abed with a whore when they walked in. Cersei's hand tightened around her arm.

"What is the meaning of this?" Robert asked.

"She hit Joffrey," Cersei explained tightly.

"He deserved it!" Joanna huffed, but was promptly ignored by both of her parents.

"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked, then drained the last of his drink. "They're _your_ children."

" _You_ taught her this behavior, _you_ punish it."

"I haven't taught her a damn thing." Without allowing Cersei to respond, Robert turned to Joanna. "Why have you hit him?"

"He was saying horrible things. He deserved it!"

"He deserved no such thing," Cersei hissed, but Robert raised a hand to silence her.

"I hate him," Joanna continued, barely resisting the urge to stomp her foot. "I _hate_ him!"

"He's your brother," Robert grunted.

"I don't care," Joanna huffed. "I hate him. He's terrible and I wish he were dead. I wish _he'd_ fallen from the tower instead of Bran."

He words were punctuated by a sharp slap, one which sent her stumbling back. Cersei lowered her hand slowly and Joanna brought a hand up to nurse the wound.

" _Never_ say that about your brother again," she seethed.

"I hate _all_ of you," Joanna retaliated thickly, whirling around and storming out of the room, slamming the chamber door behind her. Cersei turned her narrowed eyes to Robert.

"This is your fault," she hissed.

" _My_ fault that you gave her your temper?"

"She swings her fists at the slightest provocation like you do," Cersei spat.

"Children hit each other. There's never a pair of siblings that don't fight."

"Joanna is not allowed to go on hunts with you. Every time, she returns unruly. You turn her into you."

"Be gone from here, woman," Robert grunted, waving her off. He refused to look at her. She didn't say another word, instead whirling around and leaving the room as well. The door slammed once more as Robert poured himself another drink.

* * *

Instead of storming back to her chambers, Joanna made her way out of the keep. The night air was cold and sharp, especially without the extra protection of a cloak, but she was all the happier for it. It was just the remedy she needed to cool her heated blood. She wandered around the edge of the courtyard, curling and uncurling her hands. She could still feel the sting on her palm from striking Joffrey, and the sting on her cheek from being slapped by her mother. The satisfaction and the humiliation balanced each other out fairly well.

"Sneaking out?"

The voice stopped her in her tracks, and she silently hoped to herself that she wouldn't find Lord Stark standing behind her. Turning, her shoulders relaxed slightly. It wasn't Lord Stark, but rather his bastard son, though Joanna remarked that their gruff voices were strikingly similar. She shifted on her feet, brow furrowed.

"Are you going to tell?" she asked. He shrugged his shoulders limply.

"Not if you don't want me to."

"I don't want you to," she replied immediately. He gave a solemn nod. There was silence between them for a moment; Joanna wondered if it would be rude to turn around and walk away.

"Is there a reason why you're wandering off?" he asked.

"I hate my brother and I wish he'd never been born," she replied hotly. His eyebrows rose a hint.

"Sounds childish," he said.

"Well it's true." As soon as the words left her mouth, she remembered herself. The Starks were mourning, Jon included. He didn't deserve to be spat at because she was angry. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders and letting her clenched hands fall loose. "I'm sorry about your brother. It's terrible. If anything like that had ever happened to Tommen...I couldn't imagine."

Jon bowed his head slightly, nodding. "Thank you."

"What are you doing out so late, anyway?"

"I was going to the Godswood."

Impetuous, Joanna didn't realize that it was likely so he could pray for his brother. Instead, she asked, "Can I come with you?"

"If you like," he shrugged.

They walked together in silence as they made their way through the courtyard and into the Godswood. What quiet sounds of the night had surrounded them before suddenly fell silent as they entered the wood; the only sound there was the quiet whisper of wind through the leaves and their shuffling footsteps on the ground. Jon sat at the pond, shoulders slumped. Joanna wandered through the trees, stopping finally to stare up at the crying face of the heart tree. It was a haunting sight, and the pale bark of the tree looked like it was glowing in the pale light of the moon.

"There's a Godswood in the Red Keep," she said absently. "I've only been there once. The heart tree there is an oak, but it's not as pretty as this one."

She reached out to run a gentle finger over the white bark of the tree.

"Who gave you that bruise on your face?" Jon asked suddenly. Joanna's hand fell away from the tree in shock. She turned to face Jon, only to find that he was still looking down at the still water of the pond. She reached a hand up to touch the sore spot on her cheekbone. She hadn't realized it had bruised. Jon must have noticed before and not said anything. Thinking back to her encounter with her parents, her hand fell away.

"It's not important."

She walked over and sat beside him on the rock that overlooked the pond. She sat so their shoulders were almost touching, unconsciously trying to leech from his warmth. He'd had the foresight to wear his cloak. If she didn't think she'd be locked in her room the moment she returned, she'd go and get hers. Instead, she looked down into the pond, watching the moon's reflection dance on the surface of the water.

"How come you've never said much?" she asked him, keeping her voice quiet in the silence of the wood. "I always see you with your brother, but whenever I'm around you don't say anything. Do I upset you?"

"No," said Jon, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Lady Stark doesn't want my presence to offend you or any of your family."

"So that's why you weren't at the feast that night."

Jon nodded. Joanna fiddled with her hands, trying to keep them from shaking in the cold. It embarrassed her that she'd forgotten her cloak, and that she was shaking so badly when Jon hardly seemed phased. Here in the Godswood, the home of the Northern gods, with no cloak and frozen to the bone, she'd never felt more out of place.

"Well, you don't offend me," she said finally. Her teeth chattered lightly. "In fact, I think I'd like it if you spoke more."

"You would?" Jon didn't seem all too invested in the conversation, focus still down on the water.

"They say my father has bastards all over the realm," she shrugged. "It's not their fault my father can't keep his cock in his pants - nor yours that your father didn't. I don't see why that should offend me. People like my mother can be uptight about that sort of thing, but -"

She cut off abruptly, finally turning to look at Jon. He was hardly paying attention to her, staring down at the water but not really seeing anything. He was far too lost in his thoughts - and for good reason. It finally dawned on Joanna why he might have been coming here.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, feeling like the biggest idiot in all of the Seven Kingdoms. Never mind a bastard offending her, she was making an ass of herself right in front of him. "You probably came here to pray. Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Jon thought for a moment. His whole family was inside, keeping vigil over his brother, and where was he? Banned from Bran's bedroom. Sat in the cold of the godswood, the only place that Lady Stark couldn't stop him from being, with only the princess for company. And it was true, he had come here to pray. He had come here because it was the one place in Winterfell where he was truly welcome.

But it did feel nice to not be alone. After all, the place he wished he was most was Bran's bedroom, surrounded by his family. Perhaps Princess Joanna did ramble a bit, but it was nice to have someone sitting beside him. It made him feel like less of an outcast. If Princess Joanna wanted to keep him company, then Lady Stark was wrong about him, right?

"I don't want to inconvenience you, my lady," he replied.

"Of course not," she said. " _I_ don't want to be the one to inconvenience _you_."

"You're welcome to stay." He looked down again, somewhat bashful. "I'm a bit...distracted."

"You have every right to be," she said softly. She tilted her head slightly, eyes tracing his face, before scooting slightly closer. They sat in silence together for several moments. A soft rustle of leaves on the ground was the only sound that announced the presence of the direwolf. Joanna looked up as it approached, gasping quietly when she saw it nearing.

"To me, Ghost," said Jon. He noted the way Joanna stiffened as Ghost passed. "He won't hurt you. Hold out your hand."

Joanna did as he bade, however reluctantly, and offered her hand for the wolf to sniff. He regarded her with piercing red eyes before sniffing her hand. When he'd deemed her not a threat, he settled down at Jon's feet, resting his head on his paws. The howl of wolves no longer filled the air as it had earlier that evening, so Jon figured that Bran's direwolf had finally gone to sleep. He and all of his siblings had sat beneath Bran's window and howled all afternoon.

"He's a beautiful creature," Joanna said quietly. "Does he mind you well?"

"When he wants to," Jon shrugged. She was intrigued by the beast, cautiously reaching down to pet him. When he didn't react to her hands nearby, she ran her fingers through the soft fur on his neck. Jon took her distraction as a chance to examine her face from close quarters. He had seen the bruise from afar in the light of the courtyard, but in the moonlight it was difficult to see at a distance. With their proximity now, Jon could see that the bruise was darkening on her cheekbone.

No commoner would dare lay a hand on a royal, so he knew that whoever had given her the bruise must have been close to her. If her brother had struck her, surely she would have ranted and raved about how much she hated him for hitting her, but she didn't. When he asked, she had moved away from the subject. Lady Stark wasn't kind to him, but neither she nor his father had ever laid a hand on him, or any of his siblings for that matter. Jon wondered if it was the King or the Queen who was responsible, but he didn't have the gall to ask.

"Why was your brother climbing the tower?" she asked quietly, sitting straight again after giving Ghost one final scratch behind the ears.

"Bran loves to climb," he replied. His smile was wistful and sad. "He's always had sure footing before. No one was ever worried."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she said. "I'll pray that the gods will make him better."

Jon wasn't sure what kind of influence the gods of the south had on matters of the North, but he was sure that anything helped. A violent shudder shook Joanna's shoulders, and Jon suddenly realized that she hadn't brought a cloak.

"Are you cold?" he asked. Joanna shook her head, but another shudder begged to differ. "You haven't got a cloak. You should have gone inside."

"I'm fine," she denied. He noticed the way she clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. It made him chuckle.

"You're shivering so bad you can barely speak. I'm sorry I kept you out here. You should go in before you freeze. It's late, anyways. I'm sure someone's missing you."

"I suppose you're right." Joanna offered him a small smile before standing. She reached and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Goodnight, Jon."

"Goodnight, Princess," he said quietly, eyes following her as she stood. He watched her walk away from him, back towards the entrance of the godswood. Shortly before she disappeared from sight, she turned back to look at him over her shoulder. She gave him a small smile and raised her hand in a half-hearted wave before she slipped away through the gates of the Godswood.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello again everyone! Wasn't that a damn great finale? Season 7 is gonna kick my ass, I can't wait.**

 **Giant thanks today to ZabuzasGirl, darkwolf76, recey2010, HPuni101, Emmachibi, Lt-Sport89, and laura-firewalker for the reviews! Shout out as well to everyone who's added this fic to their faves and follows. I really appreciate the support so much! By this point, I'm so excited to write all of Joanna's story that I don't think anything could stop me, but it's very comforting and encouraging to know that there are people who enjoy my work.**

 **Today's chapter, we explored** **a bit more of the family dynamic in a segment I like to call Keeping Up with the Baratheons, and we also finally have some interaction with everyone's favorite bastard. We'll be moving into the actual plot of the show from now on, which I hope you guys find as exciting as I do!**

 **By the way, just as a note to everyone, this story is unbeta'd, and I tend to to most of my writing/editing late at night. So, I apologize for any and all mistakes! If you find a mistake, especially one that's particularly distracting, please let me know and I'll go back and edit! I also really appreciate any and all constructive criticism that you guys might have to give.**

 **Jon has always been a bit of a difficult character for me to pin when it comes to writing, so hopefully I wrote him believably. Please let me know if he seems if character! If not, I'll go back and edit and try to work it out.**

 **The next chapter should hopefully be out in a timely manner! I start classes next week, so we'll see how things go in terms of writing from here on out, but like I said, I'm really excited to write this story. Hopefully I can keep up a decent schedule of updating even while school is on. But, I'll be writing my butt off the rest of this week to try and get a head start on these next few chapters.**

 **Thank you all for reading and dealing with my rambling author's notes. It really means so much!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	7. VI: Scheme

VI

 _Scheme_

The week passed slowly. Following her confrontation with her parents, Joanna had been kept in her room, only allowed out for meals, once for needlepoint, and once to call upon Lord and Lady Stark. She'd actually been excited for needlepoint, glad that her mother was finally allowing her out of her chambers, but that joy turned to lead in her stomach when Sansa fell into tears halfway through and had to be lead out by her Septa. Winterfell had turned darker and more glum than it had ever been before. The presence of the royal party had brought a bright streak to the drab castle, a lightness that had now been stamped out.

Leaving Winterfell had once been a prospect that Joanna dreaded, but now being here was starting to leave a bad taste in her mouth. She couldn't have packed her clothes fast enough. The morning of their final day in Winterfell, Joanna had been collected for breakfast with her family, bundled up in a thick shawl with her hair loose. She didn't say a word to her mother, only bade Tommen and Myrcella quiet good mornings as she took her place at the head table beside her mother.

"Well," said Jaime as he came to sit at the table, "It seems Ned Stark hasn't changed his mind. He'll be coming south with us tomorrow."

Cersei gave a thoughtful hum. With the fate of his young son in question the past week, no one had been sure if Ned Stark would turn his back on his acceptance of the King's offer.

"He won't be in King's Landing long," she said. "I'm sure soon enough he'll have to return to bury his son."

The other children at the table went pale. Myrcella set down her fork and placed her hands in her lap. Neither Jaime nor Cersei seemed to notice their behavior, and Joanna wanted to tell them to stop talking. If the topic was making her upset, she couldn't imagine how her younger siblings felt. She tightened her grip on her fork and shoveled more food into her mouth to keep herself from talking.

"Hopefully the King won't make us all come back with him," Jaime half-joked, then dug into his food once it was served.

Joanna stared down at her plate, feeling a little sick. She continued to eat regardless, wary that any slight misstep might reignite her mother's temper with her. Before too long, a new set of footsteps came down the hall and into the room, echoing despite their carrier's small stature. Tyrion announced his presence in the room by calling out orders to the servants, asking for fish and beer and bacon. He stepped up to the high table, picking up Tommen and depositing the giggling boy further down the bench to make room.

"Little brother," Jaime greeted, turning.

"Beloved siblings!" Tyrion replied with a smile. Cersei gave him a hard look, before allowing a corner of her mouth to rise in a hint of a smile as Tyrion pulled a plate of sausage closer.

"Is Bran going to die?" Myrcella asked, leaning forward in her seat towards her uncle. The entire table seemed to hold its breath. Joanna paused in her chewing, waiting to hear Tyrion's answer. He took a bite of sausage, looking between her and Tommen.

"Apparently not," he answered. She gave a pleased little smile at that, but Cersei's body stiffened. She fixed Tyrion with a stony look.

"What do you mean?"

"The Maester says the boy may live," he replied. He watched as Cersei and Jaime shared a look. Despite the happy news, the sickened feel in Joanna's stomach never left. There was an odd tension at the table that made it worse, but she couldn't decipher what it was.

"It's no mercy letting a child linger in such pain," Cersei said finally. Tyrion rose his eyebrows and gave a gentle shrug.

"Only the gods know for certain," he said, chewing. He didn't seem to feel the same tension that the rest of the table did – or if he did, it certainly didn't affect his stomach. "All the rest of us can do is pray. The charms of the North seem entirely lost on you."

"I still can't believe you're going," said Cersei, muscles a little looser with the change of subject. "It's ridiculous, even for you."

Joanna's head snapped up. She felt thoroughly out of the loop, a feeling she did not enjoy. "Going where?"

"The great Wall of the North," Tyrion replied exaggeratedly. Cersei gave no reaction. "Where's your sense of wonder? The greatest structure ever built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch, the winter abode of the White Walkers!"

He lowered his voice dramatically at the end, turning towards Tommen to make him laugh. He was being dramatic to be comedic, but he had Joanna enraptured. She had never thought about seeing the Wall before. She wondered how tall it was. She wondered what it would be like to stand at the very top and look down, if she would even be able to see the ground below.

"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the Black," said Jaime.

"And go celibate?" Tyrion asked in disbelief. "The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock!"

That made Joanna chuckle. Despite his size, her uncle did seem to have a way with the whores. She wasn't sure if it was his charming personality or his money.

"No," Tyrion continued with a small chuckle. "I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world."

"Children don't need to hear your filth," said Cersei lowly, never mind that all three of her children present were giggling. She stood from her seat. "Come."

The three had no choice but to obey, dutifully rising despite unfinished breakfasts and following their mother out of the room like ducklings. As she left the room, throwing a quick look over her shoulder at her uncles at the table, Joanna began to scheme.

* * *

With her children safely back in their chambers, Cersei made a beeline through the castle towards Bran Stark's room. Ned Stark and the rest of the Stark family had since left, begrudgingly continuing their day-to-day life. Catelyn Stark had remained. She hadn't come down for any meals, and rumor was she slept in the chair beside her son's bed. After what Tyrion had said at breakfast, Cersei had wanted to see the boy for herself.

She passed through the guarded door without pausing, not bothering to announce herself to ask permission to come inside. Catelyn Stark noticed immediately. She stood, setting down the prayer wheel she had been crafting. Cersei gave her a hint of a smile.

"Please," she said softly. Lady Catelyn looked down at her clothes; she wore only her dressing gown, and her hair was unbound and unbrushed.

"I would have dressed, Your Grace..."

"This is your home, I'm your guest," Cersei replied, stepping further into the room. She paused at the foot of the bed, looking down at the prone form of Lady Catelyn's son. He was peaceful, looking almost as though he was sleeping. Part of Cersei hated that. All she could think of when she looked at him was looking up and seeing him peeking through the window, the delight of being with Jaime turning to stomach-turning fear upon being discovered.

The boy looked tiny. The rise and fall of his chest was so shallow that it hardly moved the furs that covered him. Very suddenly, Cersei was brought back to the night Joanna was born; she remembered bringing the tiny bundle close just so she could hear each quivering breath. Every time the pause between breaths was too long, she'd felt her heart drop into her stomach. The mixture of hatred and lingering sorrow she felt when she looked at him made her clench her hands. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders, wrapping it around her like a shield.

"There's nothing worse than when they're on the edge like this," she said. "And there's nothing you can do to help them...only wait, and pray. Joanna was born too early. The Maester handed her to me and told me that she wouldn't live long enough to see the daylight." She paused, closing her eyes. The memory was still so fresh in her mind; it was as though it had just happened. She still felt the choking misery of that night whenever she thought about it. "Forgive me. This must be the last thing you want to hear."

"I didn't know," said Lady Catelyn softly.

"I didn't sleep at all that night," Cersei continued. "Just held her in my arms...listened to each little breath, each tiny heartbeat. She was such a little thing. A bird without feathers..." Trailing off, she realized that she had let her guard fall. Lady Stark may be fine with being vulnerable, but Cersei was not. "I prayed to the Mother that she would live, but in the darkest hours I prayed for the gods to take her. I could not bear to know that she was suffering...that she was living in pain. I loved her too much to let her live in agony. But she was a fighter. I pray to the Mother every morning and every night that your son will be a figher, too."

"Thank you," Lady Stark replied, hands held tightly in her lap. Cersei nodded once. She turned and left the room without another word, without another sweeping glance behind her. She might have shared too much, but she remembered.

For the rest of her life, she would remember how it felt to be sitting with her firstborn in her arms, teetering on the edge of death. How frustrating it was to have just gotten something and almost have it taken away. How she wrestled with her prayers of life and death and forgiveness. The anger and anguish she felt at herself and at Joanna. A small part of her felt glad that she knew what kind of pain Lady Stark was in. Cersei knew that pain intimately.

There was a nasty feeling of glee in her chest to know that Catelyn was suffering. Cersei was at the mercy of the boy's memory if and when he woke, but she still had the upper hand. It was not an easy pain for a mother to handle, but Cersei had all of her children under her control. She had them all with her, safely guarded. Until the boy woke, that was her victory.

* * *

Joanna knew that she didn't have long to bring her scheme to fruition. She waited an appropriate amount of time for her mother to leave her chamber, before she cracked open her door. Ser Boros Blount, one of her father's Kingsguard, was standing post at the door. He was there ostensibly to keep the King's daughter safe, but in reality Cersei had him posted there under strict orders to prevent her from leaving without permission.

"Ser Boros?"

"Do you need something, Your Grace?"

"I would like for you to take me to my father's chambers."

He rose an eyebrow at her. "You know you're not supposed to leave your room."

"It's only to see my father," she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not as though I'm running off to make trouble."

"Your mother will be angry if she hears I let you leave."

"So will my father, if he hears you didn't let me see him."

Ser Boros was on the edge. Joanna gave him a pointed look, and that tipped him over. He sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. She couldn't imagine it was very fun to be at the mercy of the orders of someone half your age, but she wasn't averse to using her influence when it could get her something she wanted. He stepped aside, allowing her to open the door fully and step out into the hall.

"Don't think I won't take you to your mother if you try to run off," he warned.

"I promise I won't," she replied sweetly.

Ser Boros walked beside her as they trailed through the halls to her father's chambers. She was relieved to find two more Kingsguard were flanking his door, meaning that her father was inside. Now she just had to hope that he wasn't drunk or with a woman.

"Princess Joanna wishes to speak with her father," Ser Boros announced. Ser Barristan knocked on the door behind him, opening it once a muffled shout replied.

Joanna stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and leaving all three Kingsguard outside. Turning back, she found her father sitting at his desk once more, crown sitting atop a wide vase of wine. He threw back the rest of his drink, pouring himself another as he waited for her to address him. She rocked on the balls of her feet, curling and uncurling her hands as she tried to remember the plan she had come up with earlier. She had to go about this carefully, or else her father would dismiss her and send her away.

"Father," she began, keeping her tone light. "I've heard that Uncle Tyrion is going to the Wall when we leave tomorrow."

He didn't reply, instead raising his eyebrows at her. She took a deep breath.

"I won't be any trouble. I won't misbehave and I won't wander off. I promise I'll mind Uncle Tyrion very well."

Robert took another drink of his wine, then set the goblet down on the desk with a heavy clink.

"You know," he said, voice gruff, "every time you ask for something, your mother comes and yells at me."

Joanna figured. Cersei hated it when she went behind her back to Robert. He was the only one who had greater authority than she did with regards to their children, though generally he was content to only see them occasionally and let her take care of them the rest of the time. Still, even as a young girl, Joanna knew that Robert was the only way to undermine Cersei's control. Even after all these years the same tactics still worked on him. She rushed forward, kneeling at his feet and taking hold of his hand, looking up at him with the most pitiful look she could muster.

"Oh, please!" she said. "I'll never ask for anything else ever again."

He wheezed out a chuckle, which transformed into a full-bellied laugh. Joanna grinned, confident that she'd convinced him.

"Get up," he said, trying to catch his breath. She stood but didn't release his hand, bouncing on her feet in excitement. "Fine, fine, if that's what you want." He sighed with a small shake of his head as he poured himself more wine. "Sometimes I wonder if pleasing you is more trouble than you're worth."

But Cersei was going to find something to be angry about, anyways. She always found something to be upset about. Robert figured it might as well be something that would make his daughter happy. If he granted her this, perhaps she would be content when she returned to King's Landing; she got into much less trouble when she was content, though keeping her satisfied frequently came at the expense of Cersei's happiness. But Robert could appease Joanna, or he could appease Cersei. He didn't believe that there was a man alive in the world who could do both.

With an excited squeal, Joanna threw her arms around his shoulders. He patted her back with a smile, then shooed her away.

"Go on," he said. "Go and pack your things before I change my mind."

"Thank you so much, Father!" she said, pressing a kiss to his hairy cheek before happily trotting off out of the room.

With a heavy sigh, Robert poured himself more wine. He would need it for later, when Cersei found out. Everyone, Cersei included, liked to remind him that Joanna had gotten her personality from him. It was times like these that his respect for Jon Arryn grew tenfold. He couldn't imagine the hell it must have been to raise him. By the time he was Joanna's age, he had already fathered a bastard in the Vale. By the grace of the Seven, his promiscuity seemed to be the only thing she didn't inherit.

For now.

That thought made him refill his cup to the brim.

* * *

 **A/N: Those last lines weren't foreshadowing, Joanna's not going to go around sleeping with everyone and end up with twenty bastards. I promise.**

 **Some Lannister/Baratheon family bonding this chapter, and a little bit of insight into how Cersei's brain works. Sorry for the bit of a wait and for the short chapter, but we're getting things moving!**

 **HUGE HUGE thanks to ZabuzasGirl, Guest, darkwolf76, amrawo, smoonchester, Wombat8, xtheGoldenEaglex, Lt-Spork89, recey2010, Blizzardfang, and Amy for the reviews! I really appreciate hearing all of your feedback. (And don't ever feel bad about spamming reviews on each chapter, I love it!) Also a massive shout out to everyone who's added this story to their faves and follows! I see you out there, and I appreciate you.**

 **Really quick, I'd like to address something that needs clearing up: this story will not have a love triangle! Joanna is going to be involved romantically with Jon and Robb at separate points in the story, but that's really all I can say without giving too much away. I'm really sorry about the confusion, listing it as Robb/OC/Jon was the best way that I could think to put it; I didn't want to put separate Robb/OC and Jon/OC tags because then it might seem like there was another character involved. Hope that makes sense!**

 **This chapter was written quite quickly, and though I've looked it over, I wouldn't be surprised if there are errors that I've missed. Since this story is unbeta'd, I'd be eternally grateful to you readers if you let me know if there are any glaring errors in the story. And, if you have any kind of constructive criticism, I'd be very glad to hear it!**

 **I'm back in school now, but I'm hoping to keep updates on a fairly regular schedule. With as excited for this story as I am, I'm not anticipating any long breaks in updating anytime soon, so hopefully I can stick to that.**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I hope I'll be back relatively soon with the next one!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	8. VII: Departure

VII

 _Departure_

Try as she might, Joanna couldn't keep herself from shivering. Flurries of raindrops and snowflakes fell over the bustling courtyard, though the Northerners were nonplussed. She stood resolute, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. If she couldn't find it in her to whether the cold, then it was going to be a rough few weeks ahead of her. Desmera pulled Joanna's cloak tighter around her shoulders, making sure her neck was covered by cloth and fur.

"I'm fine," said Joanna, gently pushing her friend away. Desmera pursed her lips. Since she had come to court with her brothers three years prior, the two girls had hardly been separated. All night and all morning, Desmera had fussed over Joanna.

"Just making sure you'll be warm," she said in a small voice. "I wouldn't want you catching cold before you return."

"Don't worry about me," Joanna insisted. "I'll be back in King's Landing before you can miss me."

Desmera let out a huff of breath, but instead of responding, pulled Joanna into a tight embrace. Joanna happily buried her face in her friend's neck, reveling in her warmth and in the soft fur at the collar of her cloak. She hadn't considered, before then, what it would mean to be away from her friend for a month. She had gotten so used to the luxury of being able to call Desmera to her bed if she had trouble sleeping, or if she didn't feel like being alone. Having Tyrion for company would be nice, but not the same.

"Thank you, Mera," said Joanna softly. As excited as she was to get on the road, she was reluctant to let go, and not just because of the warmth she found in her friend's arms. A familiar clearing of the throat behind them was what separated them at last. With a nearly inaudible sigh, Desmera pulled away. She gave Joanna a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her hands once before retreating. Joanna turned to face her Mother.

"Ser Arys will be accompanying you to the Wall," said Cersei, hiding behind her mask. She motioned briefly to the tall knight at her side, a member of the Kingsguard that Joanna had known since her youth. "He will keep you safe. The Wall is no place for a pretty girl like you. There are rapers and all manner of criminals."

It was a nice try on Cersei's part to try and scare Joanna into changing her mind, but a fairly transparent one. Joanna was not to be swayed. She knew the dangers of going North to the Wall, but surely the men of the Night's Watch knew the dangers of molesting a princess. Ser Arys or any of her Uncle Tyrion's guards would have no qualms in teaching them the consequences. Even in the rough and wild North, she was swaddled comfortably in a cocoon of armed knights.

"Would you thank Father for me again, Mother?" she asked sweetly. Cersei's eye gave the smallest flinch. "He knows how much I wanted to go; It means so much that he let me."

"Of course, sweetling," said Cersei, mouth set in a line. She pulled Joanna close by the shoulders, fingers gripping almost painfully tight as she pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. She lingered a moment, loathing to release her. Once she let go, Joanna would be out of her grasp again until she returned to King's Landing. Softening her grip on her shoulders, she closed her eyes briefly to revel in the contact before pulling away. Joanna was regarding her with a confused look when she pulled away. Cersei hesitated a moment, then placed her hand briefly upon the soft skin of Joanna's cheek before letting it fall back at her side. "Be safe," she bade quietly. Joanna hadn't even had the chance to reply before her mother walked away, crossing the courtyard to the wheelhouse where her siblings had gathered.

Joanna shifted on her feet, eyes trailing after her mother. Her gaze quickly shifted to her siblings gathered by the wheelhouse. Joffrey stood, petulant, angry about something or the other, as always. Beside him were Myrcella and Tommen, meek in their elder brother's presence. Joanna wished she could go over to hug them goodbye, but it wasn't worth starting a confrontation with Joffrey. Sighing to herself, she turned to the knight beside her.

"Have you ever seen the Wall, Ser Arys?" she asked. He stepped back as a stable hand presented her horse to her, saddled and prepared for her to ride.

"I have not, my Lady," he replied, helping to boost her to mount the horse. She settled herself in the saddle, arranging her skirts around her legs.

"Then this shall be an adventure for us both, won't it?" she grinned.

"I suppose it will, my Lady."

Once he was sure that Joanna was steady in her seat, Ser Arys called to have his horse prepared and brought to him. Joanna swept her eyes over the courtyard idly, until her attention was caught on two brothers embracing across the way. When they pulled apart, they shared one last look before turning away. She was torn on who to watch, before deciding on the brother that was retreating. Robb Stark was even handsome from behind. Her eyes followed him as he sidled up beside his father, patting the snout of the horse as they said their farewells.

After several moments, Robb seemed to become aware of her gaze on him. He turned, eyes sweeping over the courtyard before finally making contact with hers. She wasn't ashamed at being caught staring, instead raising her lips in a small smile. To her delight, her smile was returned. He stepped forward as though he were about to start walking towards her, but her attention was broken away from him when Ser Arys sidled up beside her.

"We should join the party bound for the Wall, my Lady, so they'll know we're ready to ride."

"Of course," she replied, turning her head briefly to find Robb in the crowd again. She only had time to send him another quick smile before leading her horse towards her uncle and his guards near the gate.

"Are you ready?" Tyrion asked, already helped onto his own horse. She nodded excitedly.

"How long will it take to get there?"

"At the most, two weeks," he replied. "Are you up for that much riding?"

Joanna fixed him with a suspicious look, raising an eyebrow. "Did my mother tell you to say that?"

"Of course not," Tyrion chuckled. "But I would hate for my riding partner to change her mind half way through our trip."

"Well," laughed Joanna, "any time it seems I might've changed my mind, tell me what you told Tommen about wintery abodes and – what was it? – intrepid men, and my excitement will be renewed."

"Ah," said Tyrion with a nod and a smile. "How could I forget? What my niece wouldn't do to be surrounded by bold men."

She snorted. With anyone else, she would have been scolded, but Tyrion hardly cared. He knew her well – perhaps too well, given his comment.

They left from Winterfell's gates shortly thereafter, keeping with the court until they reached the end of Winterfell's road. There, the two parties split: The King and the court turned southward towards King's Landing; Joanna and Tyrion with their guards, accompanied by Benjen Stark, took the road North, bound for the Wall.

She couldn't help but look over her shoulder and watch as the long line of the court trailed away. As she swept her eyes across the scene behind her, she caught sight of Lord Stark and Jon Snow together at the end of the road to Winterfell. Two men bound in different directions, but both leaving home indefinitely. She hadn't realized how much of a comfort it was to always know that, before too long, she would be returning to King's Landing. She couldn't imagine leaving her home and not knowing when – or even if – she'd be back again. She had no idea why anyone, Jon Snow especially, would want to leave their home and their family to go to somewhere like the Wall.

But she had two weeks to worm it out of him.

* * *

They rode all day, not even stopping to each lunch. Joanna had refrained from complaining about it, aware that she was surrounded by hardened men who were used to going without food in order to make good time getting to their destination. If her Uncle Tyrion was fine with it, surely she could be as well. By the time they'd stopped to make camp for the night, her stomach was growling and aching with hunger.

It was late by the time they stopped, the last traces of light already leaving the sky. They made camp in the forest near a lazily flowing river, huddled around the fire for warmth. When dinner was finished, Tyrion reclined with a book. Joanna stood, stretching her legs after the long ride. She took a small walk around the perimeter of the camp to get the blood flowing, before spotting Ghost lying a few paces from the fire. She settled herself down within arm's reach of the wolf, offering a hand for him to sniff. She wasn't entirely sure the wolf trusted her, but he sniffed her fingers once before resting his head back on his paws and allowing her to bury her hand in his fur.

"Sit," came Benjen's voice off to the left. "You'll be fed."

He motioned for two men to sit between the two fires that had been started. They had joined the small party halfway through their ride, prisoners being escorted to the Wall by a recruiter. The recruited untied their hands. Joanna was just close enough to the fire to hear Tyrion comment on them.

"Ah, rapers," he said. "They were given a choice, no doubt: Castration or the Wall. Most choose the knife."

She fixed the recruits with an uneasy look, turning to ensure that Ser Arys was nearby enough to her. He was standing by the second fire with the Lannister guards, sipping from a wineskin and glancing periodically at his young charge. Joanna usually found the presence of all of the guards suffocating in King's Landing, but here in the wild in the company of criminals, they were a comfort. Still, knowing that she would be keeping quarters with rapers on their journey to the Wall gave her an edge of unease.

"Not impressed by your new brothers?" Tyrion continued. Jon looked down and away, but didn't say anything. "Lovely thing about the Watch – you discard your old family and get a whole new one."

Joanna couldn't imagine why Jon would want a new family. His sisters were lovely, and his brothers were kind. Nobody in his family tormented others for fun – at least, not to her knowledge. She wondered briefly to herself if every family had their own Joffrey. Surely not, she figured, as she couldn't imagine who among her mother's siblings would be so horrific – though she knew that Desmera's brothers were infamous enough in the court to be known as Horror and Slobber.

"Why do you read so much?" Jon asked, sounding defensive. Tyrion raised his eyebrows briefly, but didn't look up from his book. Joanna didn't think that he could possibly be reading while speaking at the same time, but then again, she never fancied herself as smart as her uncle.

"Look at me and tell me what you see," Tyrion replied. Jon fixed him with a hard stare.

"Is this a trick?"

"What you see is a dwarf," he answered, finally looking up from the unread pages of his book. "If I had been born a peasant, they might have left me out in the woods to die. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Things are expected of me. My father was the Hand of the King for twenty years."

"Until your brother killed that king," Jon put in quietly. He had managed to silence Tyrion, if only for a moment. There were several beats of silence between them.

"Yes," he said. "Until my brother killed him. Life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new king, and my repulsive nephew will be king after him. I must do my part for the honor of my house, wouldn't you agree? But how? Well, my brother has a sword and I have my mind, and a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone. That's why I read so much, Jon Snow." He flicked his eyes between Jon's face and the pages. "And you? What's your story, bastard?"

Jon sucked in a deep breath. Joanna hoped she was about to hear the answer to the question that had been plaguing her all day.

"Ask me nicely and maybe I'll tell you, dwarf," he answered. Tyrion chuckled.

"A bastard boy with nothing to inherit," he said, "off to join the ancient order of the Night's Watch, alongside his _valiant_ brothers-in-arms."

"The Night's Watch protects the realm from -"

"Ah, yes! Against grumpkins and snarks and all the other monsters your wet nurse warned you about. You're a smart boy, you don't believe that nonsense." Jon's silence made Joanna think that perhaps he actually did believe it. She wondered if Tyrion had come to the same conclusion. He picked up his wineskin from beside him and tossed it over the fire to Jon. "Everything is better with wine in the belly."

They sat in silence for a while, Tyrion finally able to delve into his book without interruption. Joanna wanted to speak with Jon, but she knew that he wouldn't give her the honest answers she wanted with Tyrion present. She resolved to wait until Tyrion went to sleep, hoping that Jon wouldn't go to sleep before she had the opportunity to talk to him.

"He likes you," said Jon. Joanna looked up at him with raised eyebrows, then down at the lounging wolf.

"I would certainly hope so," she replied with a small smile. "I'd fear for my fingers otherwise."

It was quiet, but Joanna managed to catch Jon's quiet chuckle. He was sending her a hint of a smile, eyes trailing down from her to Ghost. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, her eyes flickered over to the other side of the fire where Tyrion was watching their quiet exchange. When they met eyes, she clamped her mouth shut. But Tyrion wasn't an idiot.

"Have to piss," he said suddenly, closing his book and setting it to the side before standing. He made a point to take his time, stretching his muscles at length and sighing loudly before finally wandering away. Joanna's eyes followed him for a moment, before she turned her attention back to Ghost. She slipped off her gloves, immediately transferring her hands from the warmth of her gloves to the warmth of the wolf's fur.

"Why are you going to the Wall?" she asked at last. Jon met her eyes briefly before looking down.

"I don't belong in Winterfell," he answered. She didn't reply, expecting him to continue. After a moment, it was clear that that was all he'd had to say.

"And…you belong at the Wall?"

"I have a _chance_ to belong there," he said. "There was nothing in Winterfell for me."

He was immediately defensive; it was clear to Joanna that others who'd asked him about this had not been so understanding. She shifted, tucking one hand beneath her to keep it warm, the other still curled in Ghost's fur.

"Your family is there," she said after a moment. "Why would you leave them?"

"Why would you go to the Wall when the rest of your family is going home?" he shot back. She rose her eyebrows in surprise, but he didn't allow her a chance to respond. "I can still see my family sometimes. It's better this way."

He pulled his cloak tighter around him and turned away from her slightly. She swallowed, guilt rising in her stomach. He hadn't wanted to talk about it and she'd pushed anyway. Slowly, she pulled her gloves back on and held them together tightly in her lap.

"It's better that I didn't go to King's Landing with my family," she said softly. "I think I'm often a thorn in their side. They'll be happier to have a break from me. And besides, I've never seen the Wall before."

Jon shifted. He turned back towards her, if only slightly.

"It'll be my first time, too," he said. She offered him a gentle smile, if only as a wordless apology. And, to her relief, it was returned.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello again everyone! Sorry for the wait, and also for the slightly rushed chapter. I've been moving, so I didn't have the opportunity to really sit down and chill with my writing until this week.**

 **Hopefully this chapter is decent. I'm staying up a little bit late to finish and post this, so there isn't a lot of time to edit or look it over. If there's something really distracting that I missed, please let me know in the reviews and I'll edit it after class. (The joys of being a fic writer in college, right?)**

 **Huge massive thanks to Cloudcity'sBookkworm, themoonlitknnight, amrawo, Emmachibi, RHatch89, Wombat8, Amy, darkwolf76, Lt-Spork89, laura-firewalker, recey2010, RoyalsWeekend, and Ruby Meadowes for the reviews! Shout out as well to everyone who's added this story to their faves and follows. Your support is so appreciated, it really keeps me going. The reaction I've been getting from all of you makes me want to smash these out, I'm so pumped.**

 **We've got some Jon interaction this chapter, and more to come when they get to the Wall. I hope you're all excited as I am!**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'll hopefully be back soon with the next one.**

 **Until next time!**

 **Rex**


	9. VIII: The Wall

**A/N: See end for notes!**

VIII

 _The Wall_

The air grew colder the closer they came to the Wall. Joanna had taken to dressing in every layer she'd brought with her, and still, somehow, the cold managed the seep through the fabric and under her skin. Riding was horrible, the wind whipping past their faces, but the nights were the worst. Every small breeze felt like torture.

Joanna wondered sometimes if this line of thought was simply her being dramatic; even her uncle seemed to be dealing with the cold better than she had been.

On their last night of travelling, Jon and Joanna were the last awake. There were several moments of silence between the two, waiting until they could hear the faint snores of the others to begin talking. This had become something of a habit between them in their weeks of travelling, as this was the only time that it was comfortable for them to talk freely.

"Tell me more about what lives beyond the Wall," said Joanna, breaking the silence of the night. Jon thought for a moment, trying to think of something that he hadn't already told her about. She had asked about the White Walkers first, then about the wildlings and the tales of giants.

"When I was a boy, Old Nan used to tell us stories of ice dragons."

Joanna's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Ice dragons?" she repeated. "What, do they breathe ice?"

"It's said that their breath is so cold, it can freeze any man to solid ice."

She was quietly delighted with Jon's response, and tried not to let the glee show through her face. A small, freezing breeze brushed across her face, and for a moment she imagined it was the breath of an ice dragon. She shuffled closer to the fire, pulling her heavy cloak closer around her shoulders.

"Do you think they're real?" she asked, somewhat embarrassed. Jon's mouth rose in a half-smile, and he gave a breathy chuckle.

"With Old Nan's stories, it's hard to tell," he answered.

"You'll have to find out for me," she told him. "If you see an ice dragon, Jon Snow, I want to be the first one to know."

"Is that an order?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked. She snorted quietly.

"Yes, consider it one."

"I see," said Jon. Joanna relished in his smile. "I'm not sure how the Lord Commander will feel about you going over his head."

"He'll find a way to make his peace with it," she assured. Silence fell between them for several moments. For the first time since leaving Winterfell, Joanna felt sufficiently warm. The heat of the fire on her face and the weight of their dinner in her belly had her eyes drooping before long, but the thought of moving from the warmth of the fire to the cold interior of her tent did little to encourage her to move.

"You look tired," Jon finally said.

"I am," she sighed. "But I know it'll be cold in my tent."

"We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, my lady."

"I know." Very reluctantly, she pulled herself to her feet. "Goodnight, Jon. You should make sure you get some rest, too."

He said nothing, only giving her a small smile to send her off. She kept her cloak pulled tight around her as she trailed over to her tent, trying to cling to the remaining warmth from the fire. Jon's gaze followed her as she retreated. He reached over to Ghost at his side to wake him.

"Go with her," he bade softly. The wolf looked between the princess and his master briefly, before standing and trailing behind Joanna. He overtook her quickly, opening the flap of the tent with his nose just as she was reaching for it. She looked back at Jon, surprised, and he busied himself with putting out the fire to avoid her gaze. Smiling gently, she turned back to her tent to join her furry bedfellow.

* * *

The Wall was rather less spectacular than Joanna had made it out to be in her head. From afar, the first sight of the Wall looming on the horizon had filled her with wonder. Riding through the gates of Castle Black turned out to be something of a disappointment. And so much for the valiant warriors of the Night's Watch as well. The men here were hardly different from those she saw in King's Landing; the only difference was that the men here were colder.

The run-down castle was cold and unwelcoming. She had hoped for a respite from the cold of the wilderness now that their traveling was done, but Castle Black was hardly better. Her blankets were thin and threadbare, and she'd had to use her cloak as a blanket until she could ask for her fur covers to be unpacked. In the nights, the harsh wind whistled through the cracks in the stone wall. She often found herself wishing that she had Ghost to curl up on her feet like he had on their last night on the road, but she had hardly seen Jon or Ghost since their arrival at the Wall. That was perhaps the worst thing about being there.

But Joanna found enjoyment in the small places. The men of the Night's Watch were dirtier and older than those she watched in King's Landing or in Winterfell, but Joanna enjoyed watching them all the same. She tuned out the sound of Tyrion and the Commander speaking, focusing on the fight in front of them. Truth be told, she got the most enjoyment out of watching one person in particular. Jon was well-versed with the sword, and Joanna got a thrill watching him fight. The master-at-arms taunted him as he fought, picking out different trainees in the crowd for him to fight, and inevitably beat. None of it seemed to phase Jon. He fought with a mastery, and a little bit of brutality that, quite fittingly, reminded Joanna at times of a wolf. She remembered Desmera chiding her for staring at the men in Winterfell like they were pieces of meat, but then, like now, she couldn't bring herself to feel any shame.

"Well, Lord Snow," said Ser Thorne, once the fighting had stopped. "It seems you're the least useless person here. Go clean yourselves up! There's only so much I can stomach in one day."

"Charming man," Tyrion noted. They watched the recruits retreat inside.

"I don't need him to be charming," Commander Mormont said. "I need him to turn this bunch of thieves and runaways into men of the Night's Watch."

"And how's that going, Commander Mormont?"

"Slowly," the Commander admitted quietly. He reached into his belt, procuring a small roll of parchment. "A raven came for Ned Stark's son."

"Good news?" Tyrion reached out to receive the note. "Or bad?"

The Commander considered his answer for a moment. "Both."

"Then allow me to deliver it," Tyrion said. "I was hoping to have a word with him, to commend him on his skill."

"Be my guest," the Commander said. He nodded his head to Tyrion, and gave Joanna a quick acknowledgment before leaving them on the balcony.

"What news is it?" Joanna asked.

"If I had to guess, it would be about Bran."

She shifted on her feet, trying to be blasé. "Jon is a friend now, perhaps I should tell him."

"Perhaps you shouldn't," Tyrion said. "I think _Lord_ Snow will have a hard enough time with his fellow recruits as it is without receiving visits from the princess."

Joanna wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Tyrion took her momentary silence as an opportunity to leave. She blinked after him, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn't think that Tyrion had said it to hurt her, and frankly, she wasn't sure why it did. Regardless, she retreated to the room she had been given, her tail between her legs.

* * *

She had tried not to be upset or despondent. She had known for the entire trip to the Wall that she and Jon would go their separate ways upon arrival. Somehow, the hurt of being separated from her new friend managed to sneak up on her. But she had not come to the Wall to see Jon; she had come to the Wall to see the Wall, to enjoy the first (and perhaps only) time she could go away from King's Landing without her mother and father and the whole court at her back.

The following day, she asked Ser Arys to take her to the top of the Wall. Half a week she had been at Castle Black, and still she hadn't seen what she had truly come to see. Warned that it would be especially cold at the top of the Wall, she bundled herself in two cloaks, keeping them pulled closely around her shoulders.

The elevator to the top of the Wall was a wonder of machinery. For the entire ride, Joanna could only imagine the ways she would describe this to her sister and the other girls at court – especially to Myrcella, who had specifically requested to hear everything about the Wall so she could compare it to her books. Surely the highest spire of the Red Keep was not this high. The Wall had to have been one hundred feet taller, at least.

"Think of the poor sods who had to spend their days building this," Ser Arys laughed. "Thank the gods they built this instead of stairs."

Joanna smiled, the wind whipping past her face. She clung to the bars, peering out across the Gift. From this high, the men down in Castle Black looked like tiny ants milling about. At long last, they reached the top of the Wall, a small bell ringing to announce their arrival.

At the base of the Wall, it was easy to forget that the entire structure had been crafted of ice. The ice was so solid and weathered that it resembled stone. Up at the top, where a new layer of ice formed every night, it was surprisingly clear. The floor and walls were all ice and snow, with only a wooden frame and roof overhead.

The wind was blowing harshly, and she was glad that she had doubled up on her cloaks. Ser Arys trailed behind as she made her way down the length of the path, looking for a lookout opening where she could look out into the wilderness north of the Wall. She wondered what she would see out there, if she would be able to spot a wildling encampment in the woods, or if there would be nothing as far as the eye could see.

Several steps down the path, they happened upon Benjen Stark, walking back towards the elevator.

"Princess Joanna," he greeted. "Have you come to enjoy the view?"

"I have," she smiled. He turned to point back in the direction he was coming from, motioning towards the break in the ice wall.

"There's the nearest lookout," he said. "Careful not to get too close to the edge."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," she smiled. Benjen fixed her with something of a bemused look before giving her a polite nod and continuing back towards the elevator. She and Ser Arys headed to the sentry spot where Benjen had directed them, and upon reaching the opening in the wall, she paused. There, standing with his gaze cast out over the forest, was none other than Jon Snow. Joanna motioned for Ser Arys to hang back and stepped forward.

With careful steps, she sidled up beside Jon, looking down the side of the Wall. The white side of the Wall blended into the white snow on the ground, and it made it hard to discern just where the Wall ended. Ahead of them was a wide expanse of forest, and white peaks rising far in the distance.

"That's a long way down," she said quietly, amazed. Jon turned to her briefly, looking her up and down, before returning his attention to the wide expanse in front of them.

"I didn't think I'd see you up here."

"I didn't think I'd see you here, either." Starting to feel dizzy from the height, she stepped back from the ledge, seating herself on the stool next to the fire. "I'm glad I did, though. I was hoping I'd see you at least once more before I left."

He stepped down from the ledge as well, crossing to the fire and reaching out his hands to keep them warm.

"Well?" Joanna asked, cocking an eyebrow up at him. "Is the Night's Watch all you hoped it would be?"

Jon seemed to take a moment to consider his answer. "Not exactly."

"Seem like you belong yet?"

It had been meant as a joke, a reference to the time he told her he wanted to join the Night's Watch to fit in somewhere. He didn't seem to see it the same way. He shot her a quick look, but it was enough for her to glean the frustration. Not to mention, of course, the way he stiffened. She saw his jaw tense. Jon wasn't often very expressive, or very talkative – she had learned this, in the late-night talks with him while traveling to the wall – but this was a different type of silence.

"What is it?" He didn't respond, instead turning his head away. She took in a deep breath, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She looked down at her feet. "Does it have anything to do with the fact that my uncle seems to think I shouldn't be seen talking to you?"

Jon turned back to her, surprised. She met eyes with him, expecting a response. He turned away again before he answered her.

"Nobody told me what it's like here – what it's _really_ like. The other recruits hate me, because I was trained by the Master-at-Arms in Winterfell. They think I look down on them because my father's highborn."

"That's stupid," she said. "Being highborn doesn't make you different."

"They're smallfolk," he explained. "They grew up poor, hungry. I thought they would look at me and see a bastard. Instead they look at me and see Ned Stark's son."

She nodded, frowning. "So, my uncle was right, then."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Joanna turned to look out over the wide expanse of wilderness that was spread out before them. The wild lands north of the Wall. She had seen what she came to see. Disheartened, she stood.

"Before long, the men will look at you and see a brother in arms," she said softly. "You're still a trainee yet."

"Perhaps," Jon nodded.

"I hope I'll see you again before I leave," she said. He gave her a soft smile.

"It's a small castle," he shrugged. The corners of her lips tugged up into a smile.

Turning, she headed back towards the walkway. She looked over her shoulder, shooting Jon one more smile, before beckoning Ser Arys to follow her back to the elevator. With a deep sigh, Jon took her vacated seat, looking out over the edge of the Wall with the cold wind whipping his face.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello again everyone! Sorry for disappearing for a million years. Life got hella crazy, as it tends to do, and I lost time and motivation for a long while. I can't say I'm back for good, but with anticipation for Season 7 starting to ramp up, I hope not to be gone for eight months again. But, as always with me, no promises.**

 **After a pretty solid eight months of no writing, I was a little rusty, so let me know what you guys think about this chapter. Hopefully the dialogue and characterization is alright - if not, please do let me know! Now that it's done, I'm more than willing to go back and do edits to make it a more pleasing read. I got to a point where I had to get it out, or else it would be stuck in draft limbo forever. I hope it was up to your liking!**

 **This chapter is pretty solidly Jon and Joanna. I like writing these two, but like I said, I am rusty, and Jon has always been the hardest character for me to pin down. So let me know what you think!**

 **Huuuuge thanks to ZabuzasGirl, RHatch89, HPuni101, Amy, Wombat8, Lt-Spork89, nerdylittlesecret, amrawo, kate langdon, and recey2010 for the reviews on the last chapter! As well as a shout out to everyone who's added this story to their follows and faves. I super super appreciate you guys reading, it's very motivating knowing that there are people interested in what I write. Sorry again for making you all wait. **

**I hope you all enjoyed, let me know what you think about this chapter! As always, if there's any constructive criticism you'd like to offer, I'd love to hear. Everything I write is written and edited by me, so if any glaring errors stick out to you, let me know and I'll hop back in and change them.**

 **There's more Jon and Joanna to come next chapter! I'm 90% sure it will come before Season 7 premieres - maybe you'll even get two chapters before then ;)**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	10. IX: Return

IX

 _Return_

The only sound at the top of the Wall was the whisper of wind, the crackle of the fire, and the faint tinkling of piss as it hit the side of the ice wall below them. Joanna and Jon watched with bemusement as Tyrion fulfilled his promise - to come to the Wall and pee off the edge of the world. Bundled in her cloaks and leaning against the wall, Joanna kept a fair distance between herself and Jon, as she'd been told to do the day before. When the sun came up the next morning, she and Tyrion would set off towards King's Landing. Whether they would ever return to the Wall was a mystery, though Joanna couldn't imagine why they would.

Tyrion refastened his trousers and turned back to them. He walked down from the ledge slowly, satisfied.

"I'm sorry to see you leave, Lannister," said Jon.

"It's either me or this cold," Tyrion replied, "and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere."

"Will you stop at Winterfell on your way South?"

"I expect I will. Gods know there aren't many feather beds between here and King's Landing."

"If you see my brother Bran," Jon said, "tell him I miss him. Tell him I'd visit, if I could."

Tyrion nodded. "Of course."

"He'll never walk again," Jon lamented.

"If you're going to be a cripple, it's better to be a rich cripple," said Tyrion. He stepped forward and offered Jon his hand to shake. "Take care, Snow."

"Farewell, my lord."

Tyrion stepped between Jon and Joanna, passing them and heading back towards the elevator. Jon turned to watch him leave, and in doing so, turned to face her.

She looked down at her feet briefly, trying to sort out everything she wanted to say to him. She had never made or lost a friend so quickly before. But while she was still deciding what to say, Jon decided to speak.

"I hope I'll see you again someday," he said softly. She gave him a small smile.

"I hope so too," she responded. "Though I'm sorry to say, I don't think I'll be coming back to the Wall any time soon."

A brief silence, as Joanna shifted on her feet. She opened her mouth to speak.

"I suppose I ought -"

"You're a good friend, Joanna," Jon said. "I'll miss you."

She swallowed, chest feeling tight. She balled her hands into fists, realizing that there was something she'd wanted to do ever since that night a week before by the fire. Before she could think better of it, she leaned up on the tips of her toes and pressed a short kiss to Jon's mouth. When she pulled back, she felt like her cheeks her on fire. She took a moment to appreciate the look of stricken surprise on his face.

"Stay warm," she said quietly, blush hot in her cheeks and neck, then turned quickly on her heel and walked away from Jon Snow without looking back.

Joanna knew that she should feel ashamed, or guilty, but she didn't. Jon was about to take the Black, and she loved knowing that she would be his last kiss before becoming a celibate man. Perhaps it was a childish notion, but she felt satisfied knowing that even when they were a thousand leagues apart, a little bit of her would remain with him. It wasn't the first kiss that was written about in the flowery stories that Myrcella liked to read, but Joanna was pleased with it nonetheless.

The moment that the lift was ready to carry her and Tyrion down the side of the Wall, she hurried inside. She didn't think that Jon would come chasing after her, but she didn't want to be caught hanging around if he decided to go down with them. Luckily, it was only her and Tyrion who shared the ride down, and her Uncle didn't seem to be any the wiser about what had transpired moments before.

She knew she shouldn't, but she wondered what Jon was doing at that moment. Was he as exhilarated as she was, replaying the stolen kiss in his head? Could he, too, still feel the tingling and lingering warmth on his lips? She brought a hand up to touch her lips for a split second, before remembering herself and keeping both of her hands at her sides. Even though they were about to leave the Wall, she was sure that her uncle wouldn't have liked hearing that instead of keeping her distance from Jon Snow like he had told her to, she had kissed him just for the satisfaction of it. It would be hers and Jon's secret. And the memory of it, of warm lips and cold noses touching, and the startled look on his face when she'd pulled away - that was all Joanna's, hers to treasure.

* * *

The return trip to Winterfell was turning out to be a much quicker affair than the trip to Castle Black. With less people in their party, and no plans to meet with anyone along the way, they hoped to reach Winterfell in nearly half the time that it took them to get to the Wall. Yoren, the Night's Watch recruiter who was returning to King's Landing with them, was interesting company. Most of their days riding were filled with the sound of their banter. Joanna enjoyed listening to most of it, though every so often it wandered into territory that was even too vulgar for her tastes.

It was in the evenings, however, when the party was stopped to camp for the night, that Joanna truly felt how lonely this trip was. It took about a week for her to remember that she had no reason to wait up by the camp fire for everyone else to go to bed. After that, she tended to be the first person to be in bed each night, so overcome by boredom that she had very little else to do in the evenings but sleep.

Occasionally, however, she stayed at the camp fire after dinner, if there was conversation that she wanted to listen to. She noticed, one evening, her uncle using the light from the fire to sketch something on a long piece of parchment. She leaned over, trying to discern what it was that he was drawing.

"I never knew you were an artist, Uncle," she said. Tyrion chuckled.

"I'm not," he replied. "But I do my best."

"What is it that you're drawing?"

"It's a saddle design," he explained. "If Bran Stark truly no longer has use of his legs, then this shall allow him to ride."

"Did you invent that?" she asked, surprised.

"It's based on the design of my own saddle," he said. "Which, I'm afraid, I cannot take credit for."

Joanna was quiet for a moment, observing him sketch. She thought to herself that she could try drawing when she returned to King's Landing, and perhaps find a hobby that she actually enjoyed. It seemed odd to her that her uncle would be so thoughtful. He was not a heartless man by any means, but Joanna never saw him as the kind of man to go out of his way to be kind to someone. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"It's very sweet of you to do this," she said.

"Should I be offended by that tone of voice?" he asked. "Surely you don't think I'm as cold and unfeeling as your mother."

"I just didn't expect it of you, that's all."

Apparently finishing with the sketch, Tyrion rolled the parchment up.

"You should get some rest. We have another long day tomorrow."

His changing of the subject did little to quell her suspicions, but she knew better than to believe that she could worm the truth out of her uncle if he didn't want to tell her. Sighing in defeat, she stood.

"I suppose you're right," she said. "Goodnight, Uncle."

"Sleep well," he bade. Shortly before entering her tent, she looked over her shoulder to see him looking pensively at the roll of parchment. But the moment was brief, and had passed before she could think on it.

* * *

Their welcome in Winterfell was considerably less grand than it was before. Tyrion noted this as they stood before Robb Stark and Winterfell's resident Maester.

"I must say," he said, "We received a slightly warmer welcome on our last visit."

An iron sword was laid out on the table before Robb, and his growing dire wolf was resting at his foot. The signs were clear – they were not extending their hospitality this time around. Joanna wasn't sure what had changed between then and now, but she was beginning to wonder if her mother and uncle had been right about the Starks all along. She felt uncomfortable beneath Robb's cold, scrutinizing gaze.

"Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome at Winterfell," he answered.

"Any man of the Night's Watch, but not us, eh boy?"

Robb resented that, but he was careful not to let it show on his face. He kept on a cool mask of impassiveness.

"I'm not your boy, Lannister," he said. "I'm Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."

"And you might learn a Lord's courtesy," said Tyrion. "If not for me, then for your princess."

"Princess Joanna has our warmest welcome," Robb replied, though Joanna couldn't say she felt particularly welcomed.

"I see," Tyrion said. "So your quarrel is with me, then."

Before Robb could reply, and before the situation could get any tenser, the door opened. The occupants of the room turned their attention to those who entered: Bran Stark, carried by the half-giant halfwit that Joanna had occasionally seen roaming Winterfell during her last visit.

"So it's true," Tyrion remarked. "Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," the Master answered from up on the high table.

"Curious…"

"Why are you here?" asked Robb. He sounded annoyed, and Joanna couldn't help but feel somewhat offended at his tone.

"We had come seeking your hospitality," she snapped. "If there is none to be found here, then perhaps we should move on."

"Would your companion be so kind as to kneel?" Tyrion interrupted. "My neck is beginning to hurt."

Bran, face completely devoid of any emotion, said in an equally bland tone: "Kneel, Hodor."

The giant man kneeled, and brought Bran and Tyrion face-to-face.

"Do you like to ride, Bran?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes," said Bran. Then, with ice in his tone, he continued, "Well I mean, I _did_ like to."

"The boy has lost the use of his legs," said the Maester. It was all too clear that they all believed that Tyrion was mocking him.

"What of it?" said Tyrion. "With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple!" Bran protested.

"Then I'm not a dwarf! My father will rejoice to hear it!" He pulled the roll of parchment from his belt and passed it to Bran. "I have a gift for you. Give that to your saddler, he'll provide the rest. You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling, and teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy's voice."

Bran examined the diagram closely. "Will I really be able to ride?"

"You will. On horseback, you'll be as tall as any of them."

"Is this some kind of trick?" Robb asked. "Why do you want to help him?"

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things," he answered. Bran rolled the parchment up, a wide smile breaking through the emotionless mask he had worn.

"You've done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Spare me your false courtesies, _Lord_ Stark. There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed, and both of us shall sleep easier. A room for my niece is all I ask."

"Of course," said Robb with a nod. Tyrion turned and began to leave. Joanna looked between Tyrion and Robb, incredulous, before hurrying after her uncle. She caught up to him just outside the doors to the great hall.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "Go back in there and accept his offer!"

"Everyone will be much better off if I stay in the brothel – including me."

"It doesn't matter," she said, crossing her arms. "It's the principle of the thing."

He chuckled at her. "Northern Lords are hard-headed, and they hate Lannisters. I was never expecting to stay in the castle tonight."

She shifted on her feet, unhappy with the result, but she knew that her uncle was right. Her mother's family had made it clear that they held no love for the Starks, and she supposed that she should have expected that in return from the Starks.

"Fine," she said. "Then I shall see you again in the morning."

"We'll be leaving at dawn. Don't be late – your mother won't want to hear that I left you here."

That drew a smile from Joanna, imagining the look on her mother's face if she found out that she had decided to stay in Winterfell.

"Don't tempt me," she laughed. "Sleep well, uncle."

"With a night in the brothel, I'm sure I will."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello again, everyone! Sorry for the bit of a wait, though I'm glad I was able to get this chapter out to you before eight months had passed. I'm glad I could get this one out to you just in time for the Season 7 trailer! I'm sooo hyped - especially because I have this story planned up to the end of Season 6, and I'm excited to see how season 7 progresses so I can get working. First things first, though, I do need to write the entire story up to that point. As of right now, we're...what? Three episodes into season 1? Lots of work to be done! I'm super super excited!**

 **Shoutout to RHatch89, Vulcran, Wombat8, Arianna Le Fay, HPuni101, amrawo, Lt-Spork89, Guest, Rudolphx, and KatarinaFoster for the reviews! I really appreciate seeing all of your feedback and interest. Reviews are the #1 thing that helps me stay motivated to write, so I really appreciate when you guys take the time to send me one :) Also, lots of love and appreciation to everyone who has added this story to their faves and follows. It means to much to me that all of you are enjoying my work.**

 **We've got some fun stuff in this chapter! No more Jon :'( But Joanna's in Winterfell now, and that's sure to be interesting. Let me know what you guys think! Additionally, this chapter is, as always, written and sparsely edited by myself, so if you see any errors that stand out, please let me know!**

 **Hopefully I'll have the next chapter out to you guys fairly soon. I don't want to be presumptuous, but I think you guys are gonna like it ;)**

 **Until next time!**

 **Rex**


	11. X: Silence

X

 _Silence_

Dinner had begun as something of a tense affair. Though Robb had extended his welcome to her, the air between them was still set on edge. Technically the guest of honor, Joanna sat at Robb's right hand. They were joined at the table by his brothers and the Maester. As they began to eat, the only sounds in the great hall were the scrapes of knives and forks on plates, and the quiet murmurs of what few people were left in their household, most having gone south to King's Landing. Joanna had noticed that someone rather important wasn't present.

"Your mother won't be joining us tonight?" she asked.

"Lady Stark is unwell," Maester Luwin answered. Joanna's mouth drew into a tight frown.

"I hope you'll give her my regards. I was hoping to thank her myself for allowing me a room. Winterfell is a welcome improvement from Castle Black."

"How did you find the Wall, princess?" Luwin asked.

"It was colder than I expected," she answered simply. Then with a ghost of a smile, she continued, "Still, I found myself sorry to leave."

"The Wall has complained of a lack of recruits," said Luwin. "I hope you and your uncle shall relay this to the King's small council."

"Of course," Joanna replied assuredly, though she didn't remember hearing anything of the sort at the Wall. Perhaps she was too busy sulking about Jon to pay attention. "You can be assured that the Crown takes matters at the Wall very seriously."

"That is most reassuring to hear," Maester Luwin said. "The royal visit to the North has strengthened many of the Northmen's confidence in the King."

"I shall tell my father," she said with a smile. "Though, perhaps not. He does like to talk to giving up the crown and coming to live in the North. I should like not to bolster his fantasies."

Luwin smiled encouragingly, but the table dwindled into silence. Rickon toyed with his food rather than eating it. Bran and Robb both kept their heads down. Not one to be ruled by awkward silences, Joanna continued.

"I think I've developed a taste for Northern fare," she said, punctuating her statement with a gentle slurp of soup. "Food in the south is much different. I enjoy the hearty meals you serve."

"I'm glad the meal is of your liking," said Robb, though he didn't seem to be all too interested in the conversation.

"We shall prepare some for you and your uncle to take on your journey south," said Luwin.

Joanna sighed in defeat. She could make idle talk about food and weather all she wanted, but it wouldn't be enough for Robb Stark to engage in conversation with her. Resigned, she finished her meal silently, fighting hard to keep the frustration from showing on her face.

* * *

Joanna only knew where Bran's room was from calling upon him and his family before she had left with her uncle for the Wall. She was glad to be able to return with happier tidings. After the tense dinner had ended, Joanna once more returned to her rooms. She lay face down in her bed for an hour, turning over the dinner in her head and wondering if it could possibly have gone worse. She had wanted to be friends with the Starks – what had gone wrong?

With hopes of Winterfell with at least one positive interaction behind her, Joanna decided to head to Bran's room. After all, there was something that Jon had asked of Tyrion that he never got to do. She approached Bran's room, encouraged at seeing that the door was cracked. As she approached, however, she became aware of two quiet voices from within the room. Slowing her steps, she paused just before reaching the door.

The deeper voice of the two she recognized as Robb's. She hesitated for a moment, deciding whether or not she wanted to interrupt a visit between the two brothers. In doing so, she became privy to their conversation.

"When is she supposed to be back?"

"Soon, Bran."

"Will Father be coming back with her?"

"You know that he can't."

There was a brief pause. Joanna furrowed her brow, leaning in closer to the door to hear better.

Robb continued, "I know everything is different. It will start feeling normal soon."

There didn't seem to be a response; if there was one, Joanna didn't hear it. It was silent again for a brief moment, before footsteps began to sound. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, she quickly reached out her hand to knock on the door. The footsteps paused briefly, then resumed. Robb pulled open the door. He seemed surprised to see her there.

"Can I help you, Princess?"

"I came to see your brother," she said, hoping that her smile was smooth and pleasant. "Is he awake?"

"Of course." He stepped to the side, allowing her to enter. Bran was reclined in his bed, similar to how she had seen him before. He didn't seem particularly excited to see her, though nor did he seem unhappy that she was there. Lately, he didn't seem to feel much of anything. His joy at being presented the design for the saddle was the only emotion that Joanna had seen out of him since he'd woken up.

"How do you feel, Bran?" she asked, taking the seat at his bedside.

"I'm fine."

"I was with your brother at the Wall."

Bran seemed to perk up at that. "Jon?"

"He says he misses you," she said. She smiled and leaned in to place a hand over one of his. "He said that he would visit you, if you could."

"Do you think he'll visit soon?" said Bran, sounding eager. Her smile turned into a grimace.

"He's still training, you understand." He seemed to sink, smile fading. Joanna couldn't stand the sight. "It's only for a little while. Once he's a member of the Night's Watch, I'm sure he'll visit you as soon as he can."

Bran gave her a small smile, the one little boys do when they want to placate older ones but their heart isn't in it.

"Thank you," he said softly. Joanna squeezed his hand and stood. She crossed the room to the door, feeling quite defeated.

Robb, who had stood by the door for the duration of their conversation, motioned towards the hall.

"Let me walk you to your room," he said. She smiled, nodding her head in appreciation. They left the room together, closing the heavy wooden door behind them, and set off down the hallway side by side.

"That was kind, what you did for my brother," said Robb. "He's been in low spirits lately."

"I could tell," she said. "He always seemed quite amiable, last time I was here. Though I can't say that I blame him. It would be hard for anyone, what he's going through, and he's only small yet."

"He's been very tough," Robb said. There was a hint of pride in his voice, one that Joanna was familiar with; the pride that elder siblings felt when their younger brothers or sisters were particularly strong or clever on an occasion.

"Indeed," she replied. "It seems to be a family trait."

Robb smiled, and then silence fell between them. That seemed to be a recurring theme between the two of them, and Joanna couldn't stand it. Silence was perhaps the one thing in the world that she truly abhorred (not counting her brother, of course.) In her first visit to Winterfell, she hadn't had much of a chance to get to know Robb Stark, but their brief encounters seemed friendly and never fell short. Now, it seemed as through Robb was afraid to say more than just a few words to her.

In the back of her mind, she could practically hear Desmera telling her not to go opening her fat mouth. But she was never one to listen, anyways.

"Lord Robb," she said. "I can't help but feel that we've gotten off on the wrong foot."

Robb grimaced. "I hope I haven't done anything to offend –"

"Of course not," she interrupted, brushing him off. "I just wonder what it is that _we've_ done to offend. Surely there is a reason that you received us so coldly."

"I hope you understand," Robb said quickly, an attempt to get a word in edgewise before she could interrupt him again. "This is a…trying time for my family. It's difficult not to be guarded with visitors, royal or not."

She pursed her lips, considering that answer. She supposed, the Starks didn't exactly have a reputation for being incredibly trustful, especially of outsiders, which Joanna supposed she and Tyrion were. With a firm nod, she made her decision known.

"Of course. I'm sure it's not easy for everyone in Winterfell to adjust to all of the changes that have been happening." She smiled easily, hoping that he would drop his guard around her. "My uncle and I come as friends. If there is any way we can help your family, it is our pleasure to do so."

"That's kind of you, Princess," Robb said, seeming to relax. "But our house shall endure."

She chuckled with a hint of a smile. "Funny. Every time I think a Northern stereotype is an exaggeration, it turns out to be true."

Robb made a face, half amused and half confused.

"Should _I_ be offended?"

"No, no," she laughed. "Northmen are known to be very headstrong and solemn. It's become something of a joke in the South – though of course, it isn't a bad thing."

"I should hope not."

"It's admirable," she insisted with a smile. "It's certainly a better reputation than southerners have."

"Still," said Robb. "I'm sorry if I was rude to you at dinner."

Joanna gave him a smile. "There is nothing to be sorry for. I should have known that, with your brother hurt and your family leaving, it's put stress on you. I was just confused; I thought that we'd become friends when I was last here."

"You still have my friendship," he assured.

"And you have mine," she replied with a smile.

By this time, they had reached her door. They paused in front of it, and turned to face each other. Robb looked somewhat sheepish, and she couldn't help but enjoy that look on his face.

"I should hope that our next encounter is warmer, though I regret that I'm not sure when that will be."

"Soon, I should hope," Robb replied. "Though, in any case, not soon enough."

She found herself surprised at the response. Was he…flirting with her? She wasn't sure if he truly was, or if she was flattering herself. Perhaps all the thoughts of fleeting romance that had consumed her quiet moments were messing with her. He continued before she could think on it too long.

"I hope you'll write, once you're in King's Landing."

Joanna beamed. "Only if you promise to reply."

"Of course," he laughed. Then he straightened up, fixing her with a kind smile. "Goodnight, Princess."

With warmth in her chest, she smiled in return. "Goodnight, Lord Robb."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm back! Sorry about the wait, this chapter took a lot longer than I was anticipating it to. I was intending to get it out by the premiere, though I'm only a day late, so hopefully that's not too bad. It is also a bit of a shorter chapter, since writing it was so difficult, so I do apologize. Hopefully we can see some longer chapters soon.**

 **This chapter ended up being a mess of characterization for me, but hopefully it turned out alright. Let me know what you think! If you have any (constructive) criticism, I would love to hear it. Usually I can pin down characters pretty well, but for some reason this chapter was rough. BUT, we do have more Joanna/Robb interaction and more general Joanna/Stark interaction, which I was excited to write and hopefully you're excited to see.**

 **Huge thanks to RHatch89, JanaOliver, RoyalsWeeknd, HPuni101, Lt-Spork89, Guest, Amelia, darkwolf76, CharNinja LOL, and DarylDixon'sLover for the reviews! It really means so much for me to see that you guys enjoy my work, and it's a huge motivating factor for writing the next chapter. Additional love and shout outs to everyone who has faved and followed this story! I appreciate you guys checking out my work, it's so much more fun writing when I know that someone out there is reading it. :)**

 **I'll be honest, I anticipate that the next chapter or two will be a bit difficult for me to get through. There's gonna be a little bit of filler, but Joanna's on her way to King's Landing and pretty soon here the ball is really gonna get rolling! I hope I can get them to you soon, though as always with me, no promises. With the show going on right now, motivation is definitely pretty high up there. Speaking of the show, let me know what you guys thought of the premiere! I'm super psyched for this season, and the premiere started it off with a bang.**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this update, I'll try to whip up the next chapter soon as I can.**

 **Until next time!**

 **Rex**


	12. XI: Crossroads

.

XI

 _Crossroads_

Somewhere around the Neck, Joanna remembered that it was a long way from Winterfell to King's Landing, and she began to miss the wheelhouse. More specifically, perhaps, she began to miss the cushioned seats. Perhaps one day her arse would feel something other than numb or sore, though she couldn't imagine it would be soon. They were still a week at least from King's Landing. Despite this, she tried her best to grin through the pain and enjoy her trip. Gods knew, it was likely to be her last one.

While part of her was excited to get back to King's Landing, to see her siblings, to see her friends, there was a small part of her that was sad to leave the North. The North was so far removed from King's Landing, so distant and so different, that it was almost like stepping into another world for a short time. As much as Joanna had loved gossip and court chatter, it was nice for a short while to live in a world where there was no court; there were no courtiers to impress, no worry of putting a toe out of line in front of her mother. It was a simpler, and much happier life, for however short a time.

But of course, she couldn't truly be sad to return to King's Landing. Not when it meant seeing Desmera again, or Myrcella and Tommen. She couldn't wait to see the looks on her younger siblings' faces when she told them about the Wall. If she were lucky, she could avoid Joffrey's hounding about it. Cersei could hardly be avoided, but Joanna hoped that by the time of her return, her mother would have had enough time that most of her anger would have worn off. It was perhaps too much to hope for, but Joanna hoped for it nonetheless.

Yoren and Tyrion burst out laughing at something; the sound of their laughter drew Joanna out of her thoughts. Ser Arys curled his lip in disgust, scoffing. He shook his head.

"Are you sure you're not offended by their vulgarity, Princess?" he asked.

"I didn't hear them," she responded, shrugging. "I wasn't listening."

"They shouldn't use such language around you."

"I don't mind is, Arys," she said. "I promise. I don't pay them any attention half the time, anyways."

"Lord Tyrion is a man of ill character," he said, still frowning over at the two men. "I mislike the way he speaks around you and your sister."

"Myrcella likes it," she replied. The thought made her smile. "It makes her feel grown-up to hear adults use foul language."

Ser Arys sighed. "With respect, my princess, I don't know what your father was thinking allowing you to go to the Wall with your uncle. It's no place for a respectable young lady like yourself."

At that, Joanna's smile turned sour.

"Yes, well, you needn't worry of it much longer. Once we return to King's Landing, I doubt my mother will let me see the light of day for months."

"Your mother means well, my lady," he said. Joanna only barely refrained from snorting at that. She liked Ser Arys. He was often the member of the Kingsguard tasked with protecting her and her siblings, perhaps because of his younger age or his kind disposition. So Joanna thought it ironic that he seemed to believe that her mother ever did anything to her because she meant well. Still, she bit her tongue.

"I suppose you may be right," she said, voice somewhat stiff.

Joanna was much more transparent than she thought she was. Ser Arys was sure that she thought she was hiding her disdain for her mother very well. All teenaged girls seemed to be the same in that regard; every girl reached a certain age in their youth, it seemed, when they suddenly grow to be enemies with their mother. He was sure that Myrcella would be the same when she came to be Joanna's age. And, after all, Joanna did have a tendency to be dramatic.

Though sometimes, Arys could see that Joanna had a point. It was clear that Cersei loved her children in the way that she doted on them and protected them. Arys knew that it killed her to have Joanna be so far away. But he wasn't blind. Cersei was always so accommodating of her other children, so willing to overlook their flaws and make excuses for unseemly behavior. To Joanna, however, Cersei always seemed to have a much more critical eye.

For much of her life, Arys remembered, Joanna had fervently sought her mother's approval in everything she did, and relished in the reward of her mother's affection. It was only in the recent years that it seemed that Joanna began to despise the constant chase for her mother's attentions, began to tire of trying her hardest only to suffer her mother's ire over something small. She acted out more, was looser with her tongue – though, Arys noted, she still dedicated much of her time to making sure that Cersei would approve of her actions and appearance. Perhaps old habits were hard to break.

He hoped that the trip to the Wall would be the remedy that Joanna needed. She was restless, like her father. Too much time spent cooped up in the keep made her temperamental. Perhaps upon their return to King's Landing, he would see the affable young girl she was in her youth return – he had caught a glimpse of her in their visit to Winterfell, and that had given him hope. If there was one thing he hated, it was being posted outside the King's doors and having to overhear the shouting match between he and the Queen whenever she and Joanna incited each other's ire.

She did, indeed, look happier now. Even tired and uncomfortable as she was, she tended to have the ghost of a smile lingering upon her face. He only hoped it would last until they returned to King's Landing.

* * *

It was a relief to finally reach the Inn at the Crossroads. Joanna wanted nothing more in the world than a hay-filled bed, never mind the feather bed that was awaiting her at home. Her back ached with stiffness just thinking about it. So many nights sleeping on a bedroll inside a tent had been spent dreaming of the day she could have a warm meal, a warm bed, and a roof over her head once more. The Inn at the Crossroads could barely hold a candle to the Red Keep, but Joanna didn't mind.

As such, it was disheartening to be hardly two steps inside the inn before being told that there were no free rooms.

"My men can sleep in the stables," Tyrion replied. "My niece and I don't require large rooms."

"Princess Joanna, please, I would be honored if you took my room," the innkeeper said. "But my customers have paid for their beds. That is the only room I can give."

Joanna looked over at Tyrion for guidance, unsure about pushing a woman out of her own room, but he was already drawing a gold dragon from the coin purse at his side. He held it between his fingers for the patrons to see.

"Is there nothing I can do to remedy this?" he asked, and tapped the coin twice on a table for emphasis. A man sitting nearby spoke up.

"You can have my room," he said.

"Now there's a clever man!" said Tyrion, tossing the coin to him. He turned to the innkeeper, who appeared a bit baffled at the transaction that had taken place. "You can manage food, I trust? Yoren, dine with us."

Desperate for food, Joanna was eager to sit and be fed a meal. Before she could even take a step, however, another interruption befell them.

"Princess Joanna," said a loud voice. A bard, lute in hand, stood. "My Lord of Lannister. Might I entertain you while you eat? I can sing your father's victory at King's Landing."

"Nothing would more likely _ruin_ my supper." He turned his head, intending to look away from the bard, and caught something very interesting in his sights. His eyes widened in surprise. "Lady Stark!"

Joanna stepped forward, confused and surprised. She had been told that Lady Stark was in Winterfell, unwell. And yet, here she was, leagues away. Tyrion continued before she could say anything.

"What an unexpected pleasure! I was sorry to have missed you at Winterfell."

The other patrons murmured in surprise – clearly, they were all unaware that Lady Stark was among them. Curious, Joanna found, that she would be so quiet about her presence, and that her son would be so secretive about her whereabouts. Lady Stark did not look half as pleased to see Tyrion as he seemed to be to see her. She had a stony look on her face as she rose from her seat and lowered the scarf from over her head. She looked around the inn at the other patrons. Every eye was on her. The soft murmurs quieted.

"I was still Catelyn Tully the last time I stayed here," she said. Then, she pointed to a man sat across the room and stepped forward. The master-at-arms of Winterfell, who was sat across from her, rose as well. "You, ser. Is that the black bat of Harrenhal I see embroidered on your coat?"

The man in question stood and nodded. "It is, my lady."

"And is Lady Whent a true and honest friend to my father, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun?"

"She is."

Lady Stark looked around the room once more. Joanna couldn't help but notice that Rodrik Cassel had his hand clasped around the hilt of his sword. She looked behind her, making sure that Ser Arys was close at her back. Whatever Lady Stark was getting at, she was sure it wasn't a kindly gesture. Catelyn pointed out another man in the crowd.

"The red stallion was always a welcome sight at Riverrun. My father counts Jonos Bracken amongst his oldest and most loyal bannermen."

"My lord is honored by his trust," the knight said.

Tyrion shook his head. "I envy your father all his fine friends, Lady Stark," he said, "but, I don't quite see the purpose of this."

In lieu of an answer, Catelyn turned to address a knight sitting behind her.

"I know your sigil as well – the twin towers of Frey," she said. "How fares your lord, ser?"

"Lord Walder is well, my lady," the knight answered. "He has asked your father for the honor of his presence on his ninetieth nameday; he plans to take another wife."

Tyrion scoffed at that, though at her scornful glance, Lady Stark didn't seem to take kindly to his levity. She turned around to face him, pointing an accusatory finger.

"This man came into my house as a guest, and there conspired to murder my son, a boy of ten. In the name of King Robert and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me to return him to Winterfell, to await the King's justice."

She hardly had to finish speaking before each of the knights she had called upon drew their swords as one, closing in on Tyrion so he had no room to move. Ser Arys took a step towards Joanna, but she stepped towards Tyrion, fists balled in anger. What gall Lady Stark had! She took a deep breath to try and keep her voice level.

"Good sers, I bid you lower your swords," she said, hardly restrained. She glowered at Catelyn with all the anger she could muster, channeling the fury away from her voice and to her gaze instead. She tried to emulate her father when he was angry, the low, strong voice he used that made his subjects tremble in their boots. One or two of the knights lowered their swords immediately, though others hesitated. In a steady voice Joanna continued, "Lady Stark, this is folly. Our families may not always see eye-to-eye, but I promise you, my uncle bears no ill will towards your son."

"We are in the possession of the dagger he owned, the dagger that was meant for my son's throat," she hissed.

"And you're so sure that this dagger was his?" Lady Stark seemed to want to speak, but she withheld her words. Joanna took this chance to continue. "Come with us to King's Landing if you must. There, my uncle can receive a trial, and the King's justice can be dispensed immediately, if necessary."

Catelyn didn't seem wholly placated, but she didn't protest. She turned to Rodrik, sharing a long look with him, before turning back to Joanna to meet her gaze.

"I will not have him travel as a free man," she said. "He will return to King's Landing in irons."

"So be it," Joanna replied. Tyrion turned to give her a look, but she ignored it. "Ser Arys, tonight you will keep watch over my uncle's room and ensure that he does not leave. We will all ride for King's Landing in the morning."

"Yes, my lady," Arys responded.

She accompanied Arys as he escorted Tyrion to the room that would act as his prison cell for the night. To say that Tyrion was upset was an understatement.

"In irons?" he demanded, once they were far enough away from keen ears.

"What was I supposed to do?" she asked. "She told the entire inn that you conspired to murder a little boy! Truly, uncle, I'm asking you – what should I have done?"

"What does it matter now?" he asked. "I'm already a prisoner."

"When we're home in King's Landing, mother or father will think of something to free you," she said. "I'm sure of it."

"Ride ahead to King's Landing," he told her. She furrowed her brow, incredulous.

"What?"

"You and Ser Arys will travel much quicker than the entire group will. Warn your mother of what's happened."

"And leave you at the mercy of Lady Stark?"

Tyrion's expression darkened, if only slightly. "Lady Stark will keep me alive if she knows what's good for her."

Joanna frowned, but she didn't have a reply. She was keen for her uncle's advice, and if this was it, then so be it.

"I don't like it," she said. Tyrion snorted.

"Nor do I!" he replied. "But you must be quick. Go," he urged, "I'll be alright."

Hesitant, Joanna leaned down to press a kiss to her uncle's cheek. She squeezed his hands tightly, loathe to release him. Nevertheless, she and Ser Arys went downstairs to meet Catelyn and her man-at-arms. Joanna wore the stoniest look she could muster.

"My man and I will travel ahead of you to the capitol," she told them. "My uncle is in your custody. We _will_ be expecting you in King's Landing shortly, Lady Stark."

Lady Stark was not cowed, but Joanna didn't back down.

"Your uncle will receive the King's justice," she said.

"Then you shall see him to it unharmed."

She and Arys swept out of the inn, Yoren in tow, and left that evening to ride for King's Landing with all haste.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm back again! This chapter took about as long as anticipated. I decided that I didn't want to fill the story with extraneous fluff just to space out events, so I just went for it. Hopefully the pacing of the story isn't messed up or anything. Let me know what you think.**

 **Huge thanks to HPuni101, RHatch89, BrittStarr1199 (me too, girl), darkwolf76, and Lt-Spork89 for the reviews! Every time motivation gets low, reviews are the main thing that keeps me going. Seeing people review really means a lot. Additionally, I'd like to thank everyone who's added this story to their follows and faves. I see all of you, and it's really appreciated.**

 **This chapter, we've got a bit of insight, exploring things from the perspective of a character that I wasn't initially intending. And the ball is rolling now! Catelyn has made her move! We'll have King's Landing next chapter, which I'm reeeeally looking forward to - I hope you are, too!** **~romance~ is gonna be on the back-burner for a bit, but I'm super excited for you all to see what's coming next.**

 **Hopefully characterization and pacing are still good in this chapter. As always, I welcome constructive criticism with open arms. Although this is just a fun thing for me to do in my free time, I still look for ways to improve.**

 **I'm super psyched for these next few chapters, so hopefully I can get the next one out to you soon. School has started, though, and when I'm busy with school, time always passes much quicker than it seems. I don't intend to go on another 8-month hiatus, though, so hopefully I'll be back soon!**

 **Much love to you all. Let me know how you're liking season 7!**

 **Until next time!**

 **Rex**


	13. XII: Warning

.

XII

 _Warning_

The trip that should have taken Joanna, Arys, and Yoren a week took them hardly a matter of days. They hardly stopped for food and rest; when they did stop, Joanna was restless. She had no appetite and her mind was racing too fast for her to get any sleep. She thought of everything that could happen, all the ways that things could go wrong. Tyrion could die before Catelyn Stark brought him to King's Landing. Catelyn could go back on her word and take him to Winterfell anyways. Her mother and father could decide that Tyrion wasn't worth saving. They could decide to execute Catelyn for arresting Tyrion.

 _Oh, gods,_ she thought. She was angry at Lady Stark for arresting her uncle, but she didn't want to see her killed, either. She was a mother, worried for the life of her son. Grieving parents did rash things sometimes, didn't they? As long as her uncle wasn't harmed, she saw no reason why Lady Stark should be punished harshly for her actions. Cersei loved her children more than her own life; Joanna hoped that she would understand.

Cersei never understood. Joanna knew this. She immediately felt foolish for hoping for any kind of understanding from her mother. Cersei wanted the things in her life to be perfect, and took the greatest offense to any little detail that was wrong. As much as she despised her brother, she would still view his arrest as a personal offense. Joanna was loathe to see what Cersei would say, or do. She didn't always have much influence over the king, but since it was her brother, perhaps he would defer to her wishes.

It was decided, then. She had to keep her mother from finding out for as long as possible. That was a difficult task for a queen so keen in politics. But Joanna would do what she could.

The trio raced through the streets of King's Landing, straight to the Red Keep at the opposite end of the city. Joanna knew that she had to be quick. Her family would want to see her, no doubt, though she hoped that returning a week earlier than planned would delay them, if only for a bit. Once she was relieved of her horse, she turned to race into the Red Keep. Ser Arys grabbed her arm.

"Where are you off to, my lady?" he asked, confused. She pulled her arm from his grasp.

"I have to speak with Lord Stark," she said, rushing off before he could stop her again.

She hurried to the quarters that were kept for the Hand of the King, relieved that she remembered the way. She approached the door, out of breath from climbing the steps of the tower. The Stark's captain of the guard was stood at the door of the study, and Joanna gave a quick sigh of relief – she had found Lord Stark.

"Princess Joanna?" He seemed surprised to see her. "I didn't know you were back."

"I need to see Lord Stark urgently," she said, nearly panting. Jory Cassel frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't have the time to explain," she said impatiently, shifting from foot to foot as though she were about to run right past him and burst through the door. "I need to speak with him."

Cassel was still frowning, but he turned and knocked three short times on the door before stepping inside.

"Pardon, my lord," he said. "Princess Joanna is here to see you, she says it's urgent."

Apparently given approval by Lord Stark, he turned and waved her inside. She brushed past him quickly. Inside the solar, Lord Stark was standing before his desk, his daughter Arya beside him. Arya was filthy, dressed in boys clothing with her hair tousled. Joanna had no time to inquire or even to say hello.

"Lord Stark!" she cried before he could greet her. Noting her urgency, he rose a hand as though to calm her. "We returned as fast as we could!"

"What's happened?" he asked.

Joanna opened her mouth to speak, then her eyes flickered to Arya, and her lips clamped shut. She hesitated. Ned Stark seemed to notice that her hesitance relied on Arya's presence, and leaned down to kiss her head.

"Go on," he said. "We'll talk later. Jory, take her safely to her room."

The two left, and he moved past her to close the door behind them.

"What is it?"

"It's your wife," she explained. "She's arrested my uncle at the Crossroads Inn. My mother and father don't know yet, I wanted to warn you before they knew. I know that your wife is bereaved for your son – she's being rash. Perhaps you can make her see reason when she returns."

He blinked, processing the stream of information she'd blurted to him. "She's coming here?"

"I convinced her to bring him here instead of Winterfell," she said. "Perhaps if you could speak to her when she arrives, she'll see that this is all just a misunderstanding."

Eddard was silent for a moment. She allowed him his quiet so what he had heard could sink in.

"Thank you," he said finally. She shifted on her feet.

"I have to tell my father now," she said. "I'll make sure he understands that you already know."

"No," he said, somewhat suddenly. She frowned.

"The King has to know, Lord Stark," he said. "The whole city will know by tomorrow. He'll be angry if he finds out that way."

"He should hear it from me," he said. "Not his daughter."

She saw no reason to disagree, and it saved her a task that she wasn't looking forward to. She nodded. "Very well."

She turned to leave, crossing the room to the door. Just before leaving, Lord Stark called to her.

"Thank you," he said. Joanna's mouth raised in a half-smile, half-grimace.

"Good luck," she replied, and left on her way.

She trailed through the halls, making her way back to her room. First thing that she needed to do was come up with a reason for not coming to see her family right away. She supposed that she could say that she was in desperate need of a bath – which was true. She was eager to peel off her travelling clothes and finally wear a fresh dress. That might placate her family – her mother especially, who always hated to see Joanna unkept as she very much was now.

Feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she walked with much less urgency, and absorbed the feeling of finally being back in the Red Keep. It was nice, indeed, to be home. She was eager to see Desmera again, and to tell Myrcella and Tommen about her travels. They would be fascinated, she was sure. Each of them had bemoaned not being able to accompany their sister to the Wall. She would have to think of some embellishments to her story to make it one worth hearing.

It was nice to be in a warmer climate again as well. As much as Joanna had come to enjoy the cold air of the North, she did look forward to wearing lighter clothes and spending more of her time out of doors without having to come inside and warm up every so often. The North lacked the gardens of the south, of which the Red Keep had plenty. Joanna looked forward to spending the coming days wandering through the gardens with Desmera and her other handmaidens in tow, perhaps going down to one of the beaches at the foot of the castle to dip their toes in the water.

Until then, Joanna was just happy to be back in her room, where her feather bed awaited her. It had been _far_ too long. Finally reaching her door, a small smile rose on her face as she reached out to the handle, preparing to relish in the sight of the one true haven that existed to her. The door swung open, revealing to her –

Cersei.

Joanna froze. Her mother was waiting for her, and she was _not_ happy. The smile she wore was tight, and Joanna could practically feel the anger in her mother's eyes boring into her. She sat at the table, a glass of wine in her hand, Ser Arys standing across from her. That was almost worse. Cersei was in her room, and she had been _waiting_.

"There you are!" she said, standing. "When Ser Arys reported your return, I thought I'd come straight to your chambers to see you. I didn't imagine I would have to wait."

Joanna said nothing. The look on Cersei's face got progressively worse as she failed to hide her fury. Sometimes she could cover up her true feelings with a smile, but today her mask was transparent.

"Where were you?"

Joanna's eyes flickered to Ser Arys. How lucky was she feeling? She decided to test her luck – she was going to be in trouble either way, she was sure.

"I went to go find Desmera," she said, spouting the first lie that came to her. "I missed her so much, I didn't want to wait."

"Is that so?" Joanna felt her stomach sink and her palms grow sweaty as her mother spoke. "Ser Arys just told me that you told him you were going to speak with Lord Stark. Why would you do that?"

Perhaps it was because she no longer felt lucky, or perhaps it was because she didn't have it in her to speak, but Joanna did not reply – only swallowed thickly and clenched her hands. Cersei didn't need her to reply.

"Catelyn Stark arrests your uncle and the first person you run to is her husband?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Did it not occur to you that the Starks are now our enemy?"

Joanna wanted to defend herself, to explain, but her mouth was dry. When she opened it to speak, she couldn't find words to say. What could she say to make her mother understand? She had already made up her mind.

"Of course it didn't," she continued, venomous. "You're a child. Your father was foolish for allowing you to go off with your uncle. If you'd have stayed with me, this would never have happened."

"What will happen now?" Joanna asked, finally managing to find her voice. Her mother's lips rose in a tiny smile that chilled her blood.

"Your Uncle Jaime has already gone to _speak_ with him," she said. "No thanks to you."

"I'm sorry." The mumble fell from her lips before she could stop it. She wasn't sure if she was sorry for not telling her mother or sorry for being sloppy about telling Lord Stark. Her eyes were cast at the ground in front of her. She couldn't bring herself to meet her mother's icy gaze. Cersei didn't say anything. She regarded Joanna with a strange look. And then finally, her face softened. She opened her arms.

"Come here," she said softly. Joanna shuffled forward into her mother's embrace. Cersei wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter, running a gentle hand through her hair. Joanna hid her face in her mother's shoulder, eyes peering out. Cersei's mouth was just by her ear, and she spoke just softly enough for her to hear. "Never lie to me again."

And then she released her. Joanna stood stock still as Cersei trailed out of the room, Ser Arys at her tail. She didn't move until she heard the door thump shut. When she was sure she was alone, she let out a long, shaking breath, releasing with it a flood of tears that had been waiting just below the surface. She should have been cleverer. She should have known that the first thing Arys was going to do was go straight to her mother. If anything happened to Lord or Lady Stark, it was her fault.

She sank to her bed, hopeless. Of all the ways things could have gone wrong, she never considered this.

A knock came at her door. To her relief, it was Desmera who announced herself. Called inside, she trailed in with two of Joanna's other handmaidens in tow. Rising from the bed, Joanna hurried over to Desmera and buried her in a hug. Desmera responded just as fervently, wrapping her arms around her tightly.

"I've missed you, my lady," she said, then she pulled away and motioned to the others. "We all have."

Joanna smiled. Though not as close to her other handmaidens as she was to Desmera, it was still nice to see them again. She supposed she missed them always trailing one step behind her. It was nice, never being alone. She approached each one in turn; Cerenna and Myrielle Lannister, her cousins, and Rhea Royce, who had been at court for nearly a year now. Her cousins had decided to remain in King's Landing rather than travel to the North, while Rhea had travelled with them along the Kingsroad before turning to the Vale to visit her family. To each of her handmaidens, she granted a kiss on the cheek.

"Could you call Dorcas, have her and the others bring water for a bath."

Rhea, dutiful as ever, ducked in a curtsy and left to find Joanna's chief serving woman and the other servants who waited on her. Cerenna and Myrielle helped Desmera unclothe Joanna.

"This dress is filthy!" said Myrielle, a pinched look on her face. "I can't believe you had to travel in this!"

"There's no one to impress on the Kingsroad," Joanna said. "Most of the people we passed didn't know who I was."

"I'm sure the Imp gave you away," snickered Cerenna. "Where is he anyway, I wonder? Did he get stopped over in the brothels on your way through the city?"

"That sounds like him, doesn't it," said Joanna quietly. Typically she enjoyed Cerenna and Myrielle's chatter, but now she had other things on her mind. "It's a long story, one I'm sure you'll hear elsewhere before too long."

"Would it have to do with why I saw your mother leaving here?" Desmera asked.

"Indeed," Joanna sighed. "Once I'm bathed, I'm going straight to bed."

"Well we can stay, can't we?" Cerenna asked. "We did miss you so, we've all spent days talking about what stories you might bring."

That made Joanna smile, and cheered her mood slightly.

"Of course you can. Though with as much riding I've done, I can't promise I'll be awake for long."

"We'll take what we can get," said Desmera. She and Joanna shared a smile. Now down to only her shift, she sat and waited for the servants to bring the water and tub for her bath.

"Cerenna, Myrielle, go find someone to bring a pitcher of wine," she said with a long sigh. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the edge of the chair, slumped down. "Or two, perhaps. Gods know, I'll need it tonight."

* * *

 **A/N: Check me out! It didn't take me a month to get this chapter out! Quick note before the rest, Rhea Royce is only sort of mine - Yohn Royce supposedly has another, unnamed daughter. I can't technically claim ownership of her existence, but her name and personality come from me. Myriella and Cerenna Lannister are creations of GRRM, and I can only claim ownership over their personalities.**

 **I'd like to thank BrittStar1199, HPuni101, xenocanaan, bellaphant, Raging Raven, ZabuzasGirl, Crystal-Wolf-Guardian-967, Lt-Spork89, Kathleencade17 for the reviews! Some of you are first-time reviewers and I'm absolutely thrilled to see new faces! Every single review that all of you, old or new reviewers, leave me is so meaningful, and I really appreciate the time you guys put into leaving me a comment. It really means a lot and it really helps get new chapters out quicker. Additional thanks to all of you readers out there who have added this story to your faves and follows! I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying this story.**

 **I managed to smash this one out in about a night and a half. I'm suuuuuper excited that Joanna's back in King's Landing, and I hope that you are too! I'm very excited to see you guys react to what's in store for Joanna in King's Landing, and I'm very excited to write her story. As you all know, there's some dark stuff looming on the horizon. As I said in last chapter's note, romance isn't going to be a priority for a bit, but there's lots of other interactions with different characters that I'm looking forward to.**

 **( Season 7 spoilers ahoy, just in case anyone hasn't seen it yet.)**

 **Also, let me know what you guys thought of the Season 7 finale! It was so crazy, I'm so psyched for season 8! Hopefully I can keep you guys entertained with more chapters during the long wait. It's gonna be rough, but (Ned Stark voice) the fanfiction readers endure. Also...Jon and Dany, yay/nay? I know there's a lot of mixed feelings out there and I'm very interested in what you guys have to think! I think I've made my feelings known about Littlefinger, so I'm sure it comes at no surprise that I was very pleased with the outcome of the episode. I was unsure about the Winterfell plotline in general but I think they wrapped it up nicely. And, Sam and Bran's big reveal! It was so incredible! Now if only season 8 could come a little bit sooner...**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I'll try my best to get another one out to you soon. University is keeping me very busy but I also love to procrastinate, so maybe some writing will get done. Hope everyone had a great summer, and if you're in school, I hope you have a great semester.**

 **Until next time!**

 **Rex**


	14. XIII: Friend

.

XIII

 _Friend_

Joanna had been lucky so far – nothing seemed to have come of her actions yet. Despite her mother's foreboding, it seemed that Lord Stark had thus far managed to avoid a confrontation with her uncle. She hoped that he would continue to be so lucky. Until then, she surmised that it was best to keep to her chambers. It was often in her best interest to keep a low profile for a day or two after angering her mother, although this was another matter entirely. She couldn't foresee herself leaving her rooms for quite a while. As such, when she wanted anything, she had it brought to her.

Her rooms let out to one of the Red Keep's numerous gardens. It was a small maze of trees and flowers, leading down to a balcony with a view of the ocean below. Seated on the porch with the remains of her breakfast, her hands fidgeted in her lap. The sounds of the garden, peaceful as they were, weren't enough to dispel the nervousness that had settled in her chest. In the time since her meeting with her mother, nothing seemed able to dispel them. She hoped that perhaps this meeting would ease her mind.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Twisting around in her seat, she was met with the sight of Desmera with Sansa by her side – just what she was waiting for. A smile blossomed on her face, and she stood.

"Sansa!" she greeted, holding her hands out for the girl to hold. With a gentle smile and a small curtsey, Sansa accepted the offer, placing her hands in Joanna's. "I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to see you."

"Thank you, Princess," Sansa replied timidly. "How was your trip in the North?"

"I loved it," she said honestly. "It's clear to me how such a fine place produced such a fine girl."

To punctuate her sentence, Joanna reached out and gave Sansa a gentle tap under the chin. Sansa smiled and blushed prettily. She looked like a proper Southern girl now, hair done up in braids on the top of her head and dressed in airy, light-colored dresses. Pleased, Joanna gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

"Will you join me in the garden?" she said, motioning to the path that led away from her rooms. Sansa agreed with a nod. Joanna linked their arms and started down the path. She let them walk a reasonable distance in silence, surrounded only by the sound of birdsongs and the gentle trickle of the fountains. Somewhere far down below, she could hear the rush of waves against the rocks.

"Do you miss the North?" she asked once her porch was out of sight.

"Not really," said Sansa. "Only my mother, and my brothers."

"Of course," Joanna smiled. "When I was travelling, I missed the feeling of home more than I missed King's Landing itself. But perhaps with time, this will come to feel like home."

"I hope so," Sansa said, though her smile seemed to falter a bit now. Joanna paused to inspect a flower.

"You seem to be taking well to the south," she said, turning her attention to Sansa. "I hope everything has been to your liking."

"It has," Sansa agreed. "I love it here."

"Good! I would be sad if you misliked it. Now that I'm home, we'll have to see each other more often."

"I would like that," said Sansa.

"My door is always open for you to visit," she said. "For anything at all. I would like it if we were friends, Sansa."

Joanna could see the blush rise of Sansa's face, and she smiled.

"I would like that, too," she replied. Joanna have her hand a squeeze.

"Good."

Pulling gently, Joanna continued leading Sansa down the garden path hand-in-hand.

"You're lucky to have a garden near your room," said Sansa. "I don't think I've ever seen so many flowers in my life."

"Really?" said Joanna, surprised. She supposed, Winterfell didn't exactly have any gardens. "Well, you're always welcome to mine."

To punctuate her statement, she reached out and plucked a tiny blooming rose from a bush, pausing to tuck it behind Sansa's ear. Examining Sansa's hair and pretty smile, her eye was drawn lower, to the necklace resting on her collarbone. Joanna's smile faded. It was an embossed golden lion hanging from a chain around Sansa's neck. Without thinking, she reached out to touch it.

"Did Joffrey give you this?" she asked.

Sansa beamed. "He did. And then he…he kissed me."

Joanna drew a thumb over the pendant, frowning. It gave her an awful feeling in her stomach. Remembering herself, she set it gently back against Sansa's skin, and gave her a small smile.

"My mother has one just like it," she said carefully, trying to keep her tone in check. She didn't want to frighten Sansa. The girl reminded her of a delicate doe, and the necklace around her neck reminded Joanna of a heavy chain. But Sansa didn't seem to wear it heavily. It took a place of honor around her neck. Joanna was careful to phrase her next question. "Has Joffrey treated you well?"

"He has," Sansa said with a dreamy smile. "He's so sweet, and kind, and he calls me his lady."

Sweet and kind didn't sound like Joffrey. But Joanna had to remind herself that it was better for Sansa to say that she was being treated well than to say otherwise. She linked her arm with Sansa's and began slowly walking them down the path once more.

"Joffrey can…have a temper, as I'm sure you'll come to find out," she said carefully.

"I know," Sansa said softly. Joanna stopped once more, turning to Sansa quickly.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked.

"No," said Sansa. The pink on her cheeks wouldn't seem to go away. "When we were travelling still, my stupid sister made him angry. He gave me this necklace to apologize. He was angry, but it wasn't his fault."

If only Joanna had had a gold dragon for every time she'd heard that something wasn't Joffrey's fault, she could buy the Red Keep right out under her father. She looked down at their feet for a moment, trying to keep the rising outburst under control. There was so much that she wanted to say; Joffrey was a cruel monster, her mother was nearly as bad, no one ever listened or understood, and Sansa should go home and marry someone else, and her whole family should leave King's Landing before her mother followed through with what she had threatened. But Sansa wouldn't believe her, just like nobody else did.

Instead, she tried to be sincere, and not sound too much like she was giving a warning.

"Sansa…you know that my mother's family and your father's family haven't liked each other in a long time," she said.

"Of course," said Sansa, "but our fathers are like brothers."

"Indeed, they are," Joanna smiled, squeezing her hands. "And the quarrels of the past are nothing for us to worry about. But…" She paused, trying to think of what she wanted to say. Of all the things she wished to say, she wasn't sure what was the most important. So she settled for the one that was the most simple. "Just remember that I am truly your friend. And if you should ever need anything, I'm here."

Sansa grinned, dipping into a small curtsey. "Thank you, princess."

Returning Sansa's smile, the two finally continued their walk down the path through the garden.

* * *

It was just like when they were little. Joanna sat cross-legged on her floor, Tommen seated in her lap. He was too big, almost, but she cherished it nonetheless and ignored the buzzing feeling in her legs when they began to fall asleep. Myrcella was sitting beside them, listening with rapt attention as Joanna regaled her with tales of the wall. Nearly everything she said was made up, but it was worth it to see the look of wonder and delight on her sister's face. She couldn't stand it if she had returned home only to tell her sister that aside from being tall, the Wall was perfectly ordinary, and the men there even more so.

Tommen only half-listened, attention mostly focused on a small figurine of a knight that Joanna had brought him, a gift from a blacksmith in one of the little towns along the Kingsroad they'd stayed in. This was what Joanna had missed most about King's Landing. She would bear the brunt of her mother's anger a thousand times if it meant returning home to moments like this. Once Joanna's stories were finished, Myrcella went on and on about something in a book she'd read, restating everything in incredible detail. Joanna was delighted to listen, and to watch the candid expressions on her sister's face.

Halfway through Myrcella's stories, the door to Joanna's chambers opened. She looked over to see Desmera enter, looking stricken and out of breath. The joy in Joanna's chest seemed to vanish in an instant. She shifted Tommen off of her lap, giving him a playful shove. He tumbled over onto the rug with a giggle.

"I'll only be a moment," she said, standing. "And then I'll come and listen again, I promise."

She hurried over to the other end of her chamber where Desmera was waiting, dread driving every step.

"What's happened?" she asked, voice hushed.

"Your uncle attacked Lord Stark," she said, sounding frantic.

"Seven Hells," Joanna said, covering her face. "Is he dead?"

"Only injured," Desmera replied. "I don't know how bad. My brother told me about it, and I rushed here as fast as I could."

"If he's alive, then that's what's important," said Joanna, though it didn't exactly feel like the truth. She felt like she was going to vomit. It was all her fault.

"They're saying it's because Lady Stark captured Tyrion Lannister. They say she's taken him to the Vale."

Joanna looked up harshly at that.

"The Vale?" she hissed. A sudden ire rose from among the nausea in her stomach. "That woman – that, that impetuous woman! I told her to bring my uncle here, so this could be resolved!"

Desmera's eyes widened.

"You knew about this?" she said.

"I was there when she arrested my uncle," Joanna admitted. "She thinks that he tried to murder her son. Ridiculous woman! I tried to _help_ her! Gods be good…"

She sat down on her bed, covering her face with her hands. At least if Catelyn had brought Tyrion to King's Landing, she could have figured out a way for things to go better. She wondered if Lord Stark had told her to take Tyrion to the Vale, or if she had decided to take matters into her own hands even after Joanna had promised a trial. _She probably thinks I'm a snake like my mother_ , she thought. Angry as she was, she couldn't blame Lady Stark for that.

Desmera frowned and moved to sit beside Joanna, placing an arm around her shoulders.

"You shouldn't feel guilty," she said. "You did the best you could to help."

"If I hadn't tried to help, this might not have happened," Joanna said miserably. Desmera looked between Joanna and the prince and princess sitting on the rug on the opposite side of the room.

"I should have waited to tell you," she said softly. "You should enjoy your time with your brother and sister."

"No," Joanna shook her head. "I'm glad I know now. Thank you, Mera."

"Don't worry yourself over this," she insisted. "It's for the king and queen to worry about now. It's none of your concern."

Joanna didn't reply. She felt, in fact, that it was much of her concern. But she supposed that there was hardly anything she could do. And besides, even if there was, the last time she had intervened had hardly done any good. At the very least, she could ensure she didn't do any more harm – which was how she found herself at the chamber of the Hand of the King later that evening before supper. She stood before the door wringing her hands for several moments, mind volleying back and forth over whether she should enter. Eventually she did, standing with her hands clasped in front of her as she was announced, and waiting until she and Lord Stark were alone in the room before she spoke.

He was sat at the edge of his bed in only his bedclothes, thigh wrapped tight with bandages. She could see the barest stain of blood through the wrapping, and she tightened her grip on her hands. He was watching her, expectant, though there didn't seem to be any malice on his face as she might have expected.

"Lord Stark," she started, then paused. It occurred to her that she wasn't sure exactly what she had wanted to say. So she started with, "I'm sorry."

"You're not responsible for the actions of your uncle," he replied after a moment, shifting his leg uncomfortably.

"When I went to warn you of your wife's actions, I meant to help you. Instead I only caused you more trouble because I wasn't careful enough."

"I should have spoken to the King immediately," he said. "I'm a man grown; my actions weighed more on what happened to me than yours did."

"Still," Joanna insisted, a heavy feeling still in her chest. "This was exactly the sort of thing I was trying to avoid. I…" She swallowed, hesitating slightly before quieting her voice somewhat. "I know my mother can often be… _unreasonable_. It's a simple mistake on the part of your grieving wife, but I knew she wouldn't see it that way. It was foolish of me to be so careless. I hope my mistake hasn't cost you too much." She moved forward towards Lord Stark, bending to kneel in front of him. "If there's anything I can do to make you, or your daughters, more comfortable…please. It's the least I can do."

"You're very kind," he said with a small smile, though it was clear to her that there were other things weighing on his mind. He reached to pat her shoulder gently.

"You're my father's oldest friend, and your family has always been very kind to me," she said again. "It's the least I could do."

"Worry of it no further," he assured her. "It's between me and your father now."

She rose again to her feet with a small smile, guilt only partially sated. That was the best she was going to get, she supposed. Indeed, it was between him and her father now, and she had no desire to meddle in this particular instance. She curtseyed once more to Lord Stark, an honor rarely afforded to anyone beneath her station, and left the room. Starting now, she had to be more careful. On any regular day, her mother was irritable at best. But now, with the Starks in her home, she seemed like a cornered cat, ready to lash out at any provocation. Joanna sometimes wished she knew what it was about her mother – or about the Starks – that made her so uneasy around their guests. She couldn't imagine that her mother was hiding any dark secrets – and even if she was, she was surrounded day-in and day-out by Lord Varys – the Spider – and countless others in the council and court who would be keen to know her secrets. Surely any hidden knowledge would have been found out by now. Joanna surmised that it was simply her mother's nature. She loved only those within her own family – and even among relatives, she would make an enemy over the slightest perceived slights.

It was tiring to be related to such a person. Joanna hated spending each day carefully constructing her appearance, her words, her actions, all to keep from riling up her mother. She wished sometimes that she didn't care about making her angry, that she could do and say what she wanted and simply shrug when her mother was angry. But every time she woke up with the thought of not caring, she couldn't. The appeasement and approval of her mother was too important to her, whether she would admit it or not. Until the day came when it no longer mattered, this was Joanna's life. She only hoped that a day would come soon when things finally changed.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm back! I made it! It took a few months, but it's here! Thank you all for being so patient.**

 **I'd like to give a shout-out to HPuni101, RHatch89, bellaphant, Crystal-Wolf-Guardian-967, ZabuzasGirl, RandomFandoming, BrittStarr1199, Guest, amrawo, Lt-Spork89, EmzMikaelson, , StarkTeller, and recey2010 for the reviews! Every time throughout this long wait that I didn't have the motivation to write, I would look at the reviews and read all of your kind words and it would really inspire me to work hard to get this chapter out. I really appreciate it so much that you guys take an extra few seconds to leave me a note, it really makes me feel like my hard work has paid off. I also wanna thank everyone who has added this story to their faves and follows - I see you, and I appreciate all of you reading this!**

 **Stuff is happening guys! And we're getting more Stark interaction in this chapter :) I know it's not romantic interaction, but we'll get to that in a little while. Some more plot needs to happen before we can get to all of that sweet lovin'. As frustrating Sansa is in season 1, I still love her, and I'm super happy to be able to write for her some more. We're pretty close to the end of season 1, and I'm VERY excited to write all of that delicious drama.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I'm right about to leave to go on vacation over winter break and I won't be back until January, so unfortunately this will be the last update until after the new year. BUT I'm really glad that I was able to get this chapter out to you all before I left, and I really hope it was worth the wait!**

 **Thank you all so much for reading, it means a lot. I hope you liked it!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	15. XIV: Lineage

.

XIV

 _Lineage_

What Sansa had said would not leave his mind. It hadn't allowed him any rest. Instead, he sat in his study late into the night with the candles burning low, staring down at _The Lineage_. The same book that Jon Arryn had borrowed, the same line of questioning that Jon Arryn had followed before his untimely death. It left an awful taste in Eddard's mouth and a heavy feeling in his stomach. He already knew the answer to his – and Jon Arryn's – question. But what was written here in _The Lineage and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms_ only confirmed it.

Upon his first reading of the book, he hadn't understood. He hadn't pinpointed yet what Jon Arryn had seen, what had prompted him to go searching through Robert's ancestry, to seek out his bastards in the city. What Sansa had said put it into bright daylight. He almost felt like a fool for having missed it all this time. Sons with beautiful blonde hair, she had said. And in the lineage, hundreds of years of Baratheon ancestry, there was not one. Until Joffrey.

Sometimes children didn't look like their parents – it wasn't uncommon. Robb, his firstborn, bore more of a resemblance to his wife's family than his own. Bran and Arya were the only two of his five children to favor the Starks. And even Jon – but the circumstances were different. Every single match between a Baratheon and another house had produced black-haired children. Every single one of Robert's bastards were black-haired. Even his eldest daughter was black-haired. Indeed, the resemblance Joanna bore to her father was striking. There was hardly a hint of Lannister about her. Before, he had overlooked the differences between the Baratheon children. It was simply the bloodlines falling differently. But when he thought, when he really thought, there wasn't a hint of Baratheon in any of the other children. If anything, they resembled Jaime more than they resembled Robert.

It was not an easy conclusion to come to. He had spent hours trying to understand who, if not Robert, had fathered Cersei's three other children. She was a cold woman; Ned had a hard time imagining her to be open and loving to anyone other than her own family. Even with her own family, she was guarded and calculated when others were around. There was simply no other option. No man had ever been closer to Cersei, had spent more time with her, nor had held her affection than her twin brother.

Breathing out a long sigh, he sat back in his chair. This had been the reason why Jon Arryn had become obsessed with identifying Robert's bastards. The heir to the throne was illegitimate. Any of those other illegitimate sons could lay a claim to the throne – and perhaps win it, as at least their father actually was the king. If only Joanna had been born a boy, he thought, then perhaps none of this would even matter. Cersei and her bastards could live in the Red Keep safe from the wrath of Robert, who would never have to know.

The possibility of Joanna herself being the heir to the throne didn't escape him. The only other female heir to the throne had been Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her rule had been challenged even before it had started. The situation was, in truth, different, as Rhaenyra's brother had been legitimate as well. Ned wondered if it was worth the risk. Any of her bastard brothers could pose a threat to her rule. Even Cersei's sons could, if they had their grandfather's backing – which they almost certainly would. And half of the Seven Kingdoms would fight for them, compelled by greed for money, or fear of Tywin Lannister himself.

Regardless, the decision as to who would be the heir to the throne was Robert's alone. But before that decision could be made, he had to know. Ned dreaded seeing his reaction, the unbridled fury that would be directed straight at Cersei. He wanted to believe that his friend would never harm the children, which he'd raised as his own for so many years, but he couldn't confidently tell himself that they would be safe. Against his better judgement, he knew that he would have to warn Cersei. He couldn't stand for them to die knowing that he could have done something to prevent it.

He resolved to wait until after Robert left for his hunt late in the morning. The king would be away from the castle and the queen and her bastards could flee. And when Robert returned, Ned would tell him the truth.

* * *

For nearly an hour now, Joanna had sat on her terrace, looking out over the sea, deciding whether or not to stand and retrieve her stationary from her desk. Even if she did, she wasn't sure what she would write…or who. Would Jon be able to receive a message from her? Would he be subjected to bullying and taunting by the other recruits if he did? She had told herself when leaving the Wall that she would accept that she and Jon could never be more than what they shared in the brief time before their parting, but a small part of her heart still hoped. But Robb…he was kind. He made her smile. He was _incredibly_ handsome. And they could be more than simple friends. She knew that if she asked for her father's blessing, he would be happy to allow them to marry.

 _Marry! Seven hells, Joanna,_ she thought to herself. But it was something she thought of more often – not for the purpose of being with a man who she loved, but more for the purpose of getting away from her mother, getting away from the Red Keep, which was more her prison than her home. She would marry just about any man in the Seven Kingdoms so long as he promised not to lock her in her room. She was growing stir crazy, but still her mother refused to allow her out. Her only solace was the companions who came to visit her.

She perked up like a dog being offered a treat when a knock came at her door. She stood, hurrying back into her room to greet whoever had come to see her.

"It's Lady Sansa, my lady," announced her guard. Joanna grinned.

"Send her in."

The door swung open to reveal Sansa, who was positively steaming. Her cheeks were flushed, bearing a striking resemblance to her bright hair, and her hands were curled into fists. Joanna's grin turned into a look of surprise – she hadn't seen Sansa quite so bothered before. Sansa stomped in, slamming the door behind her before turning to face Joanna again.

"I can't believe my father!" she said.

"What's going on?"

"He wants me and Arya to go home to Winterfell!" She trudged over to the bed, sitting down on it with a huff. "He's making Septa Mordane pack our things."

"You're leaving?" Joanna asked, moving around the bed to take a seat next to Sansa. "Why – what happened?"

"I don't _know!_ " She punctuated her statement by hitting the bed like an upset child. "And worst of all – I won't get to marry Joffrey!"

It sounded like a good thing to Joanna, but she knew that Sansa felt differently, especially given that the girl was now sniffling into her sleeves. Sighing, she placed her arm around Sansa's slender shoulders.

"Sansa, it'll all be alright," she assured. She reached to wipe a tear away from the other girl's blotchy cheek. "You're only young yet."

"No it _won't_ be alright!" she insisted. "Father will make me go to Winterfell to marry someone else, and Joffrey will fall in love with another girl!"

"I'm sure your father just wants you to be happy -"

"He doesn't!" said Sansa. "If he wanted me to be happy he'd let me stay and marry Joffrey and be the queen."

Joanna frowned. "Is this all about not being the queen one day?"

"No, I love Joffrey! I love King's Landing, I want to stay!"

"And I would love nothing more than for you to stay," Joanna said. She took Sansa's hands in hers, holding them gently between them. "I'm sorry that your father is making you leave. He didn't say why?"

"He said it was for our safety." Sansa rolled her eyes. "What place could be safer than the Red Keep?"

Joanna squeezed her hands gently to comfort her.

"I'm sure he wants what's best for you, Sansa. It's not as if you'll be gone from King's Landing forever."

"I hate it!" she whined, removing her hands from Joanna's to wipe her nose on her sleeve. Joanna lifted her arm around her shoulders again, and Sansa leaned into her embrace. "How will I tell Joffrey?"

"Joffrey will understand," Joanna lied. "I'm sure he'll miss you just as much as you'll miss him. Perhaps you can write each other once you're gone."

"Or what if he forgets all about me?"

"Well," said Joanna, reaching up to brush a strand of Sansa's hair away from her face, "they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I'm sure he'll fall even more in love with you once you're gone."

"Do you really think so?" she asked in a small voice. Joanna felt pity well up in her chest.

"I know so," she replied. "I can't imagine how anyone else could replace you in his heart – or in anyone's heart."

Sansa was quiet for a moment, sniffling, ruminating on Joanna's words. She sighed.

"I'm going to miss you as well," she said. "You're my best friend in King's Landing."

That made Joanna smile. It truly did warm her heart to have Sansa's affection.

"I'll miss you too," she replied. She couldn't say, though, that she was terribly upset to hear that Sansa was leaving. Ned Stark was a smart man – surely he recognized that Joffrey would be a terrible husband, and the Red Keep a terrible home. It was the only home Joanna had ever known, and she still hated it. She had half a mind to ask the Starks to take her with them. She rubbed Sansa's arm reassuringly. "I'm sure everything is going to be fine. Why don't you go and finish packing, and perhaps we can have supper tonight?"

Sansa nodded, a small smile on her face. She stood, thanking Joanna with a hug before leaving her on her own. Joanna stood alone in the room for a moment, feeling unsettled. She strongly suspected that Lord Stark wasn't worried about his daughters being in danger from people outside the Red Keep, but rather from the people inside of it. She hoped that along with his attack, her family hadn't threatened his daughters in any way. That would be especially low of them, but she supposed she could imagine it happening. She wondered if Lord Stark himself would be leaving, too.

Either way, the number of friendly faces in the Red Keep seemed to be growing smaller by the day.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm still alive! Sorry that took so long - writing is hard enough while school is going on, but even harder when the show it's based off of isn't coming out for another year.**

 **Huge shoutout to HPuni101, bellaphant, RagingRaven, RandomFandoming, Lt-Spork89, EmzMikaelson, Anna.B, Crystal-Wolf-Guardian-967, and LadyFinwe for taking the time to leave me a review! And to address the message left by StratoGott \- unfortunately I'm here for a good time, not a long time, and hopefully if my readers are looking for a story that's meant to rewrite nearly the entire premise of the show, they understand that they're not going to find it here. Nevertheless, I do appreciate any and all reviews left on my work! It means a lot to me to see what you think and know that the time and effort it takes to write isn't for nothing :)**

 **This chapter's a bit shorter than usual, but hopefully it was worth the wait. Things are really starting to get into gear now, and there's going to be some big things happening in the next few chapters. There's a tiny hint of romance in this one, and hopefully enough to keep you guys fed - it's going to be a little while until we get any more romance. But we'll get there!**

 **Hopefully I can get another chapter to you guys soon - we'll see. I might still be writing this thing after I get my Ph.D., but mark my words, it'll get done. Thank you guys all so much for reading, it means so much. I hope you liked it!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


	16. XV: Rattle

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XV

 _Rattle_

Joanna held her hand clasped around her father's. She didn't consider herself a pious woman, but the sight of her father laying weak and injured in bed had shook her. He was not the tall, strong man that the stories said had won the Iron Throne, but she had always known him to be firm, hearty, even when he was overcome with the drink. She held his hand, head bowed, whispering quiet prayers to the Warrior to return her father's strength to him. Joffrey, too, had been shaken by the sight of their father's injury; he had no taunts or biting words to offer today. Indeed, Joanna hadn't seen him this scared and unsure since they were small, small children.

"Out, all of you!" Robert's voice still boomed in the small room, though it was followed by a wheezing cough. Joanna hardly registered the feeling of Ser Barristan's hand on her shoulder, or the sound of footsteps leaving the room. He shook his hand to pull it out of her grasp. "Gods be good, you're stubborn, Joanna. Get out."

She rose her head to see her mother and Maester Pycelle retreating from the room, and Ned Stark standing on the opposite bedside where Joffrey had once sat. She nodded her head obediently, pressing a light kiss to the back of her father's hand before releasing it to stand. She crossed the room, following the others out to the hallway. Joanna stood beside the others as they stood in the hallway, waiting for the door to open once more so she could resume her post at her father's bedside.

"You shouldn't linger," said Cersei. "Death isn't a sight meant for young girls."

"If Grandfather were dying, you wouldn't leave him," Joanna replied. She crossed her arms over her chest, head bowed. "I want to stay and pray over him."

Cersei stepped forward to pull Joanna into an embrace. She pressed a kiss to the top of Joanna's head.

"Your prayers won't save him now, sweetling," she said. "It's best to come away."

"Please, Mother," Joanna insisted. She looked up into Cersei's face and saw the conflict before it settled into something not quite sympathy and not quite pity.

"Very well," she relented, brushing Joanna's hair back tenderly. With a final kiss upon Joanna's cheek, Cersei left the hallway. Joanna stood among the others, staring down at the ground. All of the men among her were familiar with death – even Varys, she was sure, as he had lived through her father's rebellion. She had never seen a person die before, and she dreaded that it would be her own father.

"You don't have to stay, you know," Renly said quietly. "Your father will understand. He even wanted Joffrey to leave."

"I want to," she insisted softly. She swallowed back the tears threatening to overcome her, desperate to remain strong in front of the rest.

It was then that the door opened again, Ned Stark stepping out. He looked at each of them before bowing his head.

"Give him milk of the poppy," he said. Maester Pycelle stepped forward, and Renly and Joanna followed. Renly put an arm around Joanna's shoulders to comfort her as they walked into the room. Joanna took her place once more at Robert's side as Pycelle administered the milk of the poppy. Robert seemed to breathe easier afterwards, his breath not constrained so much by his pain.

Joanna kept her head bowed as she prayed, paying little attention to her father and Renly as Robert ignored Renly's attempts to reminisce. She hadn't noticed him leave, nor had she noticed that she and her father had been sitting in silence for several moments before he shook his hand in her grasp again.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked gruffly. "I thought I told you to get out."

"Stand from the bed and throw me out," she said quietly. "Otherwise, I'm staying."

That pulled a hearty chuckle from him, which quickly turned into a series of wheezes. Joanna squeezed his hand tighter, heart drumming in her chest. She had no idea how death worked; it made her anxious thinking that any moment could be his last. She didn't know what to expect.

"You're too like me for your own good," he said when the coughing subsided. "If you'd been more like your mother, all of our lives would've been easier."

Joanna said nothing, only lowering her eyes. She supposed he had a point – thinking back on it, much of her interaction with her father in her life occurred when her mother brought her to him for discipline. But she was happy not to be like her mother. And so long as she didn't become a drunken fool in her older years, she saw no reason why being like her father was a bad thing.

"I suppose that's one good thing I've done in my life," he said. "I've turned my daughter into a pious woman."

"The Warrior will give you your strength back," she said quietly, feeling foolish. It sounded, to her ears, more like something Myrcella would say. She always thought of herself as too old to believe in things like fairy tales and miracles. She had never disbelieved in the gods before, as she'd never had the need for their blessings. But it truly was her first thought, to pray to the Warrior for her father's strength to return to him. Saying out loud now made her realize how naive it made her sound. He chuckled again, quieter this time, with less breath.

"I never needed blessings from the Warrior," he said. "I _was_ the warrior. I can't get that back now. Pray to the Stranger to make it swift."

It was odd hearing the undertone of sorrow in his voice. She had never heard him sound anything but drunk and jolly or powerful and angry. She had nothing to say. Instead, she bowed her head once more in silent prayer, alternating her prayers to the Warrior and the Stranger to strengthen her father, to let him live a while longer. She didn't notice that her prayers had drifted away into sleep until she was being woken again, on her knees and her father's hand still between both of hers as her head lay on the bed.

She rose her head to face the sound that awoke her. Her father's breathing had become labored, he gargled and choke as he struggled to take breath. Immediately her heart hammered against her chest, her stomach feeling as though it had disappeared from inside her as her hands began to shake. She rose higher on her knees to see her father; he was pale, his eyes closed. He looked dead already.

"Maester!" she cried. She tugged on her father's hand as though it would wake him. "Maester!"

Pycelle came shuffling in, his chains rattling like her father's breath as he lumbered over to the bed. He leaned over it, examining her father briefly, but he made no move to help.

"This is it, child," he said.

That last moment seemed to last forever to Joanna. It was an awful eternity, hearing her father's breath slowly wither and fade. She was deaf to anything around her, focused solely on her father as he died. She wished she could have closed her eyes and ears to it, but she could not. She could do nothing but watch him, do nothing but listen, do nothing but feel as his hand became entirely limp in hers. Pycelle nodded and turned away to call for the Silent Sisters.

Joanna could not move. She stared at her father, trying to process through her head that the sleeping figure of her father was, in fact, his corpse. She jumped when Ser Barristan's gentle hand squeezed her shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Come now, princess," he said. She nodded dumbly, resting her father's hand as gently as she could against the bed. She braced herself on the edge of the bed to stand, her knees screaming in protest. She hadn't noticed before now how much they'd hurt from being knelt at the bedside all evening. Now they were stiff, and she shuffled like old Pycelle as Barristan led her out of the room with an arm around her shoulders like a shield from the corpse they left behind.

Joanna could not understand how a man who'd had such a small role in being her father could leave such an impact on her. She could not understand how her father had been so alive only yesterday and now he was gone. The feeling in her chest was much like the feeling she'd been left with that evening after Bran Stark had fallen from the tower. It wasn't quite sadness or grief, but it felt rather empty. Robert had been absent through much of her life, and yet it had never left her as shaken as it did now. It was a different absence, she supposed. She would never see her father again. The small moments of companionship and affection that had occurred between them would never happen again. The time of her life that she'd spent as her father's daughter was over forever. Now she had only her mother. She crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself, comforting herself. She felt alone.

Barristan saw her safely to her chambers, where the candles had burned low in her absence. Dorcas had waited up for her, and undressed her gently before tucking her into bed with all the affection of a mother; she brushed Joanna's hair away from her face before caressing her cheek softly, promising in a gentle tone that things would be better again once she woke.

Once she was alone in the dark, Joanna spent several moments awake. She closed her eyes, taking slow, deep breaths in and out, expecting each time to hear the sickly rattle of her father's last breaths. Opening her eyes once more, she stared up at the canopy, trying to clear her brain of all thought of death and her father. Instead she focused on the embroidered pattern above her, the flowers and the deer and the careful beading, and on the quiet sounds of nighttime as they came through her window, crickets outside in the garden and the faraway crash of the waves.

She fell asleep thoughtless, with little resistance, the same way her father had slipped away from life.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello again! I'm back again, not six months late this time! This chapter is extra short, but it felt complete on its own and I spent about a week hesitating on whether or not I wanted to add more. Next chapter things will be moving along again and I expect we'll be back to normal length chapters :)**

 **I'd like to thank HPuni101, Hackslash24x7, recey2010, and Crystal-Wolf-Guardian-967 for the reviews! Additionally I also want to thank everybody who's added this story to their faves and follows. I really appreciate all of your continued support! I understand that waiting around for an update for a million years isn't fun but I really appreciate you sticking around and I hope I make it worth your while.**

 **Soooo Robert Baratheon died. Joanna has some feelings about that. And so do many others in the kingdom, as we'll see next chapter! I hope to get it out to you all soon! I'm going to be rewatching all of Game of Thrones from episode 1 starting this weekend probably so I expect that will help renew my interest in the series and in writing :) I've spent quite a bit of the last week tweaking my plans for Joanna's future, and I'm quite happy with what I've come up with.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think :) I'll be back as soon as I can with another one.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rex**


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